With Wings of Feathers and Glue
by slexenskee
Summary: For his safety, sixth year Harry Potter must live abroad while attending Hogwarts. There, lonely and out of place, he meets Alice Cullen, and inevitably, Edward Cullen as well. HPEC
1. Suis la Lune

_Hello, never written an HP nor Twilight fanfic. Quite honestly, I'm not even a fan of Twilight. I am, however, a fan of Edward and Harry. So, this presents a bit of a problem. Forgive any plot errors I'm working off of sparknotes for the majority of the Twilight scenes (which is practically half of this story) and I'm trying to keep this as Cannon as possible. It will be mostlyHP cannon but obviously not Twilight (hence, Bella).

* * *

_

_l--l_

_we were too afraid to go to sleep,_

_we were too afraid to fall asleep,_

_i promised you,_

_with wings of feathers and glue._

_l--l_

_x. suis la lune. _

Harry awoke to the sound of Ron grumbling from beside him, and he blearily opened his eyes. Only to snap them shut, as rays of sunbeams poured from the open window. If only he excepted the Hat's proposal and went to Slytherin…he'd never have to deal with ridiculously bright mornings again, and, for that matter, light in general. But perhaps it wasn't an entirely good deal. He'd also have to room with Draco Malfoy, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, and other annoying Slytherins. And that would do nothing for his mood at all.

"Wish we were back in the Burrow," Harry groaned to an equally homesick Ron. Gryffindor tower was up to par with the Weasley household, but only on weekends. The fact that school started _much too early_ only dampened Harry's spirit and made him wish even more fervently for his bed at the burrow.

"Blimey mate…did we always wake up this early or am I just imagining it?"

Harry responded with a groan that could be translated equally into, "Marrgghhhh," or, "Dunno," depending on the transgression of the one's hearing.

He was thinking more and more about what this year would bring. Snape as the defense against the dark arts teacher made him want to hurl, while, at least this year he wouldn't have a one hundred percent chance of failing potions. Or…he wouldn't have, if he had taken it.

However, Professor Slughorn didn't seem to be a perfect teacher either, from what he disclosed from their first meeting.

And more importantly, Malfoy was up to something. Regardless of both Hermione and Ron's skepticism of his allegiance with the Dark Lord, Harry was near sure of it. There was something going on at Borgin and Burkes, he knew it.

But he put the thoughts aside, and instead, got dressed along with Ron, who seemed to be under the effects of a jelly-leg jinx, do to his inability to move a few paces away from the comfort of his bed.

The two made their way down into the Great Hall, where they found Hermione, picking at her food while buried in a book.

Typical Hermione.

Harry explains to her what he overheard in the train from Malfoy and his goons.

"I don't know, Harry." She put her book down to watch him skeptically. "I doubt Malfoy could be a…you know…"

"Death Eater." Ron filled in for her, noting how she drifted off.

Harry shook his head vehemently. "He said that he was moving on to 'better things'. What else could that mean?"

"I'm sure there are a lot of things he could be talking about." Hermione insisted, before pulling out her time table. "I think we have bigger issues to worry about. For example, what will Hagrid say when he realizes that none of us took his class?"

The two continued to converse as Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice, before catching a glimpse of snowy white owl fluttering down from the enchanted ceiling.

Hedwig dropped the letter onto his plate, and Harry deftly caught it before it could reach the eggs.

The owl then doubled back, and Harry grabbed a bit of bacon for a treat.

"What's that?" Hermione leaned in closer, taking note of the script.

Harry shrugged, opening it.

"From Dumbledore." He frowned, eyes darting to the head table, where Dumbledore didn't seem to be doing much out of the ordinary, the professor by his side twittering on about something and he seemed to genuinely listen.

"Is it about…" Hermione's eyes darted about. "The prophecy?" She whispered quietly.

Harry shook his head. "He wants me to meet him before classes. Its apparently a safety concern."

Hermione furrowed his brows, and Ron stopped his fast-paced inhaling of food to watch Harry with something akin to worry.

"Safety?" Ron echoed. "Hogwarts is the safest place to be!"

Hermione, who would usually at this point burst into a tirade about Hogwarts; A History, and its immaculate shields and defenses, stayed quiet.

Ron noted her silence, and hedged. "Well, I mean… no one can get pasted the wards. Right, Mione?"

The brunette only sighed. "If Dumbledore has reason to be cautious, I'm inclined to believe him."

Harry wanted to groan aloud. Dumbledore wasn't always right! In fact, the boy who lived was already annoyed at the older man for a number of reasons. The largest being the fact that the Headmaster hadn't thought it imperative to tell Harry that, he was going to have to die or kill Voldemort. The latter of which didn't seem plausible with his lack of skill.

However, students were already beginning to file out of the Hall, and Harry followed suit, Ron and Hermione tagging along behind him.

"You're going to see him?" Hermione brushed back her hair as she asked.

Harry sighed. "Probably don't have much of a choice in the matter."

The gargoyle glared at him imperiously, guarding the stairs to the headmaster's office as he stood in front of them. Hermione and Ron went off to get their schedules checked from Mcgonagall, leaving Harry to meander his way to Dumbledore's office himself.

"Acid pops." He said as clearly as he could, and the gargoyle allowed him entrance.

"My boy, come in, come in."

Harry stepped inside the cluttered office, and Fawkes twittered to him from his post.

"You asked to see me, Headmaster?" He spoke, wondering what new 'safety concerns' Dumbledore could be talking about.

"Its come to my attention that the halls of Hogwarts are…" Dumbledore had a vague way of speaking that made Harry want to believe every word he was speaking, and Harry hastily pulled himself back. He was no longer a first year that believed everything the revered man said. "Compromised this year."

"Compromised?" Harry echoed. "What do you mean?"

"The safety of Hogwarts is always at the first and foremost of my mind," Dumbledore explained. "However, as you know, _your _safety is at an entirely higher standard. For reasons that, you already know."

"The prophecy." Harry nodded. He didn't like it, but he understood now that his safety was a much higher concern now that it has been disclosed that it is only him that can destroy the Dark Lord.

"Yes." Dumbledore agreed. "That is why, for this year, I am going to allow you to live outside of the castle, and floo to school every morning—

"Outside the castle!" Harry interrupted, angered. "But professor, Hogwarts' wards are impeccable! Nothing can go through them! Isn't it safer if I stay here?"

"Your right, Hogwarts' wards are perfection. However, I'm afraid the problem does not rely _outside_ of Hogwarts, but rather, what is in."

"What is in?" Harry whispered with dawning realization. "But professor, you can't possibly mean…"

The headmaster only sighed, and Harry didn't know what to say for a few moments.

Harry blinked, the information digesting. "Oh…" He said slowly, and felt embarrassed that the professor had been talking to him as if he was a slow and dimwitted child—which, was rather true considering how he had acted.

"I see." He sighed, knowing it was near impossible to argue with the headmaster, especially about his safety. "Where will I be staying, professor?"

Albus' eyes twinkled, as he hummed, "Somewhere very safe, my dear boy."

Harry watched him with doubtfully, but said nothing else. As he was dismissed, he immediately followed the path to where the Gryffindors were lined up, and Mcgonagall seemed swamped with all the first years and their ridiculous questions like "how do I get here?" and, "whose that?". The halls would definitely be crowded this year, with idiotic first years spewing moronic garbage, as usual. Were they that bad when they were first years?

He found Hermione and Ron a little bit over the midpoint of the line, and scurried to their side before someone could accuse him of cutting.

Hermione was huffing in disdain, while Ron was abashedly grinning.

Harry decided he wouldn't ask.

When it was their turn, his already abysmal mood took a nose dive.

"You wish to be an Auror, correct, Mr. Potter?" Mcgonagall asked him sharply, as she studied his time table.

Sending a furtive and helpless glance to Hermione (said prefect only sniffed at him and turned away) he gulped and nodded.

"May I ask why you're no longer continuing potions?" Her voice was curt, but her eyes flashed with concern.

Harry scratched the back of his head. "Well, uh, I didn't think my OWLs score was acceptable enough." He explained to her.

"Well Mr. Potter, you seem to be in luck. Professor Slughorn's requirements are lower then Professor Snape," And with an air that reminded Harry sorely of Mrs. Weasley when one of her kids—mainly Fred and George—did something and she felt the need to scold, Mcgonagall scribbled onto his timetable. "Now, that's better."

Harry gaped at her, and he could hear Ron next to him choke.

He sputtered, and words tried to form out of his crestfallen face. "You're joking…"

"Certainly not, Mr. Potter." She looked at him, confused.

"B-But," He struggled for an excuse. "I don't have any supplies! Or ingredients! Or a book, even!"

Mcgonagall only smiled benignly, and Harry felt as if she may have known his resistance to the subject, and merrily made him continue it anyway. "Those can easily be borrowed."

Harry wallowed in his depression while Hermione only huffed at him, the prefect having once again taken an inordinate amount of classes that made her timetable look like a mass of black lines. Ron joined Harry in his depression after Mcgonagall dismissed his futile attempts at backing out of potions, which only worsened the overall mood of the three considering their first class was DADA. This would usually cheer them up, except a certain hook-nosed professor was now teaching it. Said professor also had a personal vendetta against Harry Potter.

Of course, one class period later Harry had already earned himself a detention for Saturday night.

"Good Merlin, Harry." Hermione sighed. "Already a detention and its only the first day! Who knows how many more you'll get…"

"He was edging me on, Mione." Harry protested in vain; Hermione had already swatted his puppy dog eyes away. "You saw him! Right Ron?"

Ron, now tuning into the conversation, nodded vigorously. "Completely, mate. The guys crazy, its like he was destined to hate you or something. The way he was sneering at you when we were practicing those nonverbal spells and all."

"Oh both of you." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Professor Snape is a teacher, the fact of which you two seem to forget easily. He wouldn't stoop to such childish immaturity. Unlike _some _people." She shot them a look.

Ron and Harry only smiled innocently.

* * *

Far, far away past the Atlantic Ocean, Forks Washington experienced a typical lugubrious ashen sky, clouds wallowing and looking ready to spit torrents of rain, a substantial tumult which never really ended, just as no one really knew when it had begun. The house in the middle of the forest, or perhaps it wasn't a particularly pleasing way to put it, as the house was really something more of a mansion, with its steel empires and glass walls, lay undeterred by the weather.

Alice opened her eyes with a jolted start, and immediately donned a jacket and began to walk to the door in hurried paces.

Edward, who had been reading a book—rather, flipping through the pages dully—noted her sudden near frighten paced, and ran up to match her stride.

"What's wrong?" He asked immediately, noting her frazzled look.

She gulped air, as if not knowing how to put it in words. Her thoughts were a jumbled bunch of whispers and pictures, most of which he couldn't decipher. Silent images ran past him, eyes opening--green, green, green--and a scar like a thunderbolt, a lipless mouth sounding out words and suddenly those eyes weren't green, but red like the blood sunsets, and his head was pounding and he was clutching the back of his head with vertigo. As they walked out into the mist that clung to their skin and clothing, he could make out a blurry picture of a house, and a terribly strong feeling emitting from it. No…perhaps not a feeling, but something that almost physically weighed him down with its strength, but the house appeared normal. Like, an aura almost.

"Alice?" He questioned tentatively, as his sister leapt into the trees with inhuman force.

"I saw something," She admitted quietly, shrubbery blurred swathes of color around them. "I'm not sure _what_, though. I just have to see…"

She trailed off, and he didn't think she'd want him prying anymore. Instead he opted to follow her, as she swerved about through the canopy of trees like she knew exactly what she was doing. Knowing Alice, she had probably seen the path in a vision. Possibly the same vision that had startled her into rushing out of the house to an unknown destination.

She dropped to the ground suddenly, and he gave a yelp of surprise as he backtracked to fall onto the mossy earth behind her.

Sunbeams made their way out of the darkened sky, the crepuscular rays bright and creating sheens of light that freckled the ground.

The house in front of them was exceedingly normal.

Like most houses in Forks, there weren't many neighbors around, and the fact that there wasn't a house in a mile or so radius wasn't abnormal. What was unusual was the man pattering about the front porch, muttering strange things that neither could hear from the distance. If they were in a closer range, and not far off the property almost three fourths an acre away, they would have also seen the old man's stick, or rather, wand.

Noting that Alice seemed frozen, as if replaying the scene from her vision, Edward took the moment to scan the old man's mind.

Eerily, it was silent.

Edward furrowed his brows. That had never happened before.

"I can't read his mind." He told his sister, who only nodded.

"I know."

The two watched, crouched in the shadows of speckled light from the green canopy above them, as a woman exited the house, and spoke to the elder man. The man rubbed his beard, which was long and white, as was his hair, and replied to her. He carried himself with a strange, vague sort of way. Almost omniscient. Edward was about to careen from over the brambles that shrouded them before the man's head snapped to their location.

Edward held a breath he didn't know he had taken as the man's eyes zeroed in on him, like a hawk from miles above sighting prey. It was near frightening, how easily he had seen them.

But then, he turned away again, and spoke to the woman with strange purple hair. The woman made a light reply with a smile, before the two closed the door.

"I saw this, happening." Alice explained quietly. "But this was what confused me—

A loud crack, almost like a gunshot, resounded from the house.

With widened eyes, Edward raced over to the house in concern. His sister followed suit, albeit slower, as if she knew what awaited them on the other side of the door.

The vampire swung the old wooden door open in a rush, thinking to see a dead body of either a man or woman on the dusty floor.

Instead, there was nothing.

"What…?" He looked around, sniffing the air. There scent was gone, and no smell of a gunshot, which would have been the obvious conclusion. He turned to Alice for answers.

She simply shrugged. "Its like in my vision. They both disappear. I don't understand…"

"Their scents stop as well." Edward added, running a hand through tousled bronze hair. "I couldn't read either of their minds, also."

"The old man though, there was something strange about his. It was perfectly quiet. The woman's seemed to be simply obscured, while the man…it was almost like it was blocked." With darkened eyes, he added.

Alice put a finger to her chin worriedly, as she walked about the abandoned house.

In the three years they had lived in the small populace town of Forks, this house had never been bought. The previous owners had long since died. While it was an attractive house, two stories, white washed exterior with blue shutters, no one had bought it. The inside was, predictably, barren. There was no furniture, but the parlor that met them immediately from the front door looked as if it could hold lavish, regal furniture. The stairs spiraled a few paces away from the door, revealing a walk way that went from the west side to the east.

"I suppose we should tell Carlisle." Edward muttered, as he looked about the kitchen and sun room.

"We should." Alice agreed.

* * *

Later that day, Harry received a scroll from Dumbledore.

This being a both a miracle and a mood killer.

For one, it addressed the day that Harry would move all his items to his new home—the location of which hadn't yet been disclosed, much to his ire—and get accustomed to wherever Dumbledore was sending him packing too. Luckily, Saturday was also the day that Snape had scornfully assigned him detention, and Harry was delighted for a reasonable excuse to miss the date. Serves Snape right, anyhow, for giving him such a unfair detention anyway.

Of course, Harry was non-too delighted in the fact he was moving at all. He'd like nothing better then to hang out with his fellow Gryffindors in the common room like he had for the past six years, instead of having to floo to whatever horrid place Dumbledore had assigned for him. He couldn't bear to think of all the things he would miss by not being there. And more importantly, he was the_Quidditch _captain. How on earth would he be able to do that if immediately after classes he must floo back to his secret location? He'd have to ask Dumbledore that.

Currently in their only free period of the day, Harry and Ron were ecstatically enjoying watching first years run about like headless chickens on their way to class.

"Oh bloody hell," Ron chortled. "Did you see that one by the corner? He just rammed his face in the pillar at the sight of you."

For once, Harry was laughing about his status. The first years were wide-eyed and jaw-dropped in awe at the very sight of Harry Potter, this fact not going unnoticed by Ron, who proceeded to jeer at them all and swing an arm around Harry.

"This fame," Ron grinned lopsidedly. "I could get used to it."

Harry scoffed. "Take it, please."

A young girl almost went up to take his autograph, but the cold look Ron shot her sent the little Hufflepuff scampering away.

A couple others tried to follow suit, but Mcgonagall, who was on hall duty to help the first years make their way to classes correctly and on time.

She immediately spotted the two sixth year boys cackling in laughter, standing atop and alcove to get a better view of the moronic first years. With a huff, she successfully disentangled a young first year Ravenclaw from a heap on the floor, and pushed past the awe-inspired first years crowded among Harry and Ron.

Her look could wither mort plant life. "Mister Potter and Mister Weasley, might I ask what you two are doing?"

Ron only grinned sheepishly as both of them stuttered in unison. "U-Uh…it's a free period, so…"

Mcgonagall, nonplussed, shooed them off, blandly intoning that it was nearly time for their next class, and they oughtn't to be late. Of course, said Gryffindor Head House probably already had an inkling that being late was part of the two boys' intention.

Their free period of first-year watching was, sadly, over. The two of them made their way into the dungeons, which were abnormally cold that day.

The two of them stumbled into Slughorn's class nearly late, and the entirety of their class (which was sadly joined with the sixth year Slytherins) was already there and watching them in deadpan. Hermione crossed her arms, and Harry could read her expression to be, "how typical of those idiots". He paid it no mind though, instead explaining to Slughorn that they hadn't a cauldron, or any ingredients, or even a book.

"That's quite alright," Slughorn smiled graciously, but it was a bit lost in the folds of fat. "Just take one from the cupboard over there." And he waved an arm in the wide vicinity of said cupboard.

Once there Ron and Harry discovered there were only two left.

One of which falling apart at the seams and seemed to have gone through many rough and turbulent years, and perhaps lost a couple important pages as well.

With a look at each other, both grabbed the higher quality book in unison.

Sadly, Ron had muscled up that year to be the Quidditch keeper, and won with a triumphant smirk. Harry only glowered.

While the two boys were off at the cupboards, Slughorn had resumed his lesson, asking the class on the potions in front of him.

Naturally, Hermione was the first to answer, hand up like a bullet. She then correctly identified the first one to be polyjuice (perhaps, because she had made it in her second year?), the second to be amortentia, which she then began to rant that it smelt different depending on a person's tastes, and then embarrassed herself by saying hers. The last of which Harry didn't catch, but arrived to hear that the prize would be Felix Felicis.

"I don't care much for the prize," He shrugged, when Ron asked him if he knew what that was.

Slughorn explained that Felix Felicis was said to be "liquid luck" before they all headed on their merry potion-making ways.

An hour later and Harry had successfully pissed off the entire class, found himself in possession of the _ultimate _potions brewing book in the world, and obtained a small vial of Felix Felicis, much to the anger of Malfoy (the scornful look the blond sent him was unseen by Harry) and Hermione.

"You cheated!" Hermione hissed furiously at him, and he blinked.

"I didn't cheat," He grinned. "I just, had a little bit of insight on how to brew potions better."

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she watched him clutch his potions book.

Before he could interrupt, she snatched it out of his hands.

Her eyes widened as she saw the messy margins scribbled in ink and loops of cursive handwriting. Harry protested, warning her that it was very delicate and could come apart at any moment, but she paid him no mind. At first, she'd have indignantly told him that this book was a bunch of bullocks and would ruin any potion, but the proof was right in Harry's pocket. There was no way Harry could have won the Felix Felicis and brewed a perfect Draught of the Living Dead without it being right.

"Well, who's is it, anyway?" She sniped, still outraged.

Harry only shrugged. "Dunno, it said 'Property of the Half-Blood Prince'. But who knows who that is."

"Sounds like a royal git who thinks he's a monarch" Ron inputted, and then added, "Kind of like Malfoy."

"I think its dangerous." Hermione insisted, but Harry dismissed her worries.

Saturday opened with sunny rays that seemed a bit unusual for Scotland's normally cloudy days. Especially now that the seasons were changing, and the leaves had already begun to burst with red ocher and peach orange.

He had told Ron and Hermione about what Dumbledore had insisted, and in a prevalent Hermione fashion, she agreed completely with Dumbledore's reasoning.

"_He's right." She nodded fervently, much to Harry's disappointment. "The school is getting dangerous. I mean, while I think you're taking it a bit far with Malfoy, I think it's a fair assumption that some children will inevitably become Death Eaters."_

_Ron only grumpily sighed. "I'm going to miss you mate, it'll be hell rooming with Neville and Seamus alone."_

_Harry had glumly tried to smile. "Well I'll be here for classes, and I'm sure that I can sneak in a couple hours to stay at the dorm."_

His trunk was already moved to his still not disclosed new house, and his bed and bedside table looked dreadfully bare without it.

He eyed Ron, who was snoring about and sleeping in as he always did. Neville was already in the shower, and had perfectly made his bed in the rather OCD way he always did. In fact, if Harry dared to open his trunk he'd see Neville's clothes folded perfectly and his Herbology books rearranged in chronological order. Seamus, on the other hand, like Ron was snoring away (Harry couldn't blame them, he'd be doing the same if not for his new predicament) and had his school trousers and shirt flopped haphazardly on the floor, his tie strewn on his bed post and the rest of his clothes in a heap on the floor next to his overflowing trunk.

Harry would miss the mundane, banal day-to-day qualities of life at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore greeted Harry with a wide smile, much too happy for Harry to digest.

"Well, Mr. Potter, if you would…"

Harry obligingly grabbed a handful of floo powder, still unwilling to address the headmaster he was so upset with.

The boy-who-lived waited patiently for Dumbledore to tell him where he was going.

Noticing Harry's pointedly sour look, Dumbledore jolted, "Ah, yes. It's Secret House, Forks, Washington."

Harry complied, mind whirling. Forks? Washington? He was barely aware that Washington State was somewhere near California, but not as far inland as Chicago, let alone where the hell Forks might be. Why would anyone name a town after an eating utensil?

"Secret House," He began loudly, stepping into the floo. "Forks, Washington."

With a fluster of green flames, Harry was gone.

The journey took many more seconds then the split-second arrival that Harry was used to, but he supposed he should have expected it. Not only was Washington across the Atlantic Ocean, but it was also on the entire other side of America. It might be a little easier to cross via Asia, he thought to himself.

He coughed and sputtered as he tumbled into his new house, which was bare with no furnishing at all. Harry was already acquainted with the floor, which was tastefully done in white marble.

Dumbledore strode out of the floo impeccably, looking neat and composed. Harry enviously glowered from his position on the marble ground.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, how did you get there?" The professor blinked owlishly over his half-mooned spectacles.

"I wonder," Harry muttered crossly, picking himself up. "Err…professor, where are we?"

"Forks," Dumbledore smiled waspishly. "Washington."

_Obviously_. Harry thought sarcastically, and luckily he had mastered Occlumency to its bare minimum and Dumbledore couldn't read that.

"Now, while I suggest not leaving the house, I suppose its in every young man's nature to curiously explore one's surroundings." Dumbledore began, in a sotto voce lecture-like manner. "The house was recently warded this morning, and the location is under the Fidelius Charm. No one can know the location of the house unless you bid it, and no one can enter unless you adjust the wards, which can be done by simply thinking you want them adjusted."

Harry was quiet during his speech, unable to put his anger and annoyance into words.

"Also, I've noticed that the house has a rather…barren quality to it."

To Harry, that was an understatement.

Firstly, the décor of the house was poorly outdated. While in the Magical World it seemed normal with its seventeen-hundreds airy visage, the Muggle world would consider this absolutely out of style. Compared to his aunt's house, with carpeted flooring and flowery wallpaper, this looked Victorian in contrast. Secondly, the entire house had _no _furniture. Harry was sure that his trunk was somewhere around here, but he doubted there was nothing else. A thin layer of dust covered the marble flooring that tiled the entire house, and the sun room adjacent to the front parlor where the fireplace was had long floor to ceiling windows with gray, cobweb like curtains.

"—will be coming to help."

Harry whipped his head around quickly. "Sorry sir, could you repeat that?"

"I've noticed the house has a rather barren quality to it, so Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley have agreed to accompany you to Diagon Alley to shop for furniture and will be coming to help."

Harry was delighted at the thought of seeing his friends.

Looking at his bare surroundings did nothing to quell his loneliness, and Harry wasn't even dampened by the fact that Order members would certainly be tailing them.

"Oh, and, before I take my leave." Dumbledore paused in his ducking to get into the fireplace. "You godfather had written you to be the head of the House of Black in his will."

The Gryffindor blinked, the thought of Sirius sending a tight coil into his stomach.

"And he also emancipated you, therefore, you are free to do magic." Harry grinned. Now that was good news. He wished Sirius was alive so he could thank him. "I'd advise not doing too much here. It's a small town and you wouldn't want rumors flying about."

With his—dare Harry say—wise words of advice, the fireplace flared into existence, and died just as quickly, marking Dumbledore's exit.

* * *

The school year started with slow reality for Edward.

He hadn't realized that it was getting to the point where he'd once again have to attend classes, sitting through boring hours to keep up appearances of a normal family, having to deal with the whispers and rumors flying about.

Alice gave him a lift, and took off just as quickly in a whirl of her skirts and soft smelling perfume, leaving him to fend for himself. Jasper, his other male companion in the car, shared an equally contemptuous look with him, before he too eventually had to split off to his class.

The first day was wretchedly boring, with rumors spreading about the new girl, Chief Swan's daughter. He was very displeased to realize he would be spending three of his weekday mornings in the presence of Lauren Mallory, a rather fish-eyed, and fish smelling girl with a penchant for moving around uncomfortably, and swishing her blonde hair in his face. She hadn't yet since talking about the new girl, which, apparently, despite her rather uninteresting lifestyle and face, seemed to catch the eye of the student body entirely.

He hadn't noticed her until his Biology class, upon which he halted in his tracks.

Not only could he not read her mind, but her smell…her blood….was so _enticing_. It took everything he had not to kill everyone in the room and taste and see just how delicious it really was. Edward wasn't entirely sure how such an unpleasantly normal looking girl could have such a perfect, tantalizing smell to her, as if beckoning him to rip into her neck and release the scent into the air. His fingers twitched to brush her hair back, and he sat rigid for more than half and hour, scantly remembering to breath, trying to ignore her existence.

It frightened him, how easily he lost control.

Edward didn't need to be a mind reader to see that the girl thought he was repulsed by her, but there was nothing he could do. He felt if he opened his mouth to speak he'd instead bite her neck.

Immediately afterwards, he packed as many clothes as he could find off of his bedroom floor, stuffed them into a bag, and left for a hunting trip.

* * *

Harry smiled as he was once again met with the London air he had so been craving.

Hermione had dragged him into every furniture store this side of Knockturn Alley, and the Weasley twins had given him a variety of knickknacks to take on his journey to what they called, "the other side" more formally known as, the great wilderness of upper North America.

After lifting out a hefty sum of galleons at Gringotts, Hermione had proceeded to load him up with an array of sofa's, carpets, books and even bookcases, as well as a full potions set (for homework, she explained as she also grabbed an astronomy set, incase they had weekend assignments) and everything he'd ever dreamed of for his bedroom. What Harry would do with a lamp that changed colors depending on his mood, he wasn't very sure, but he supposed it could come of some use to him at some point in time. After more than a couple hours perusing the many shops and nooks of Diagon Alley--and, when the Gryffindor witch wasn't looking, some of the more feasible stores of Knockturn Alley--Harry's house would no longer be the barren empty one it was at the moment, but a junk house filled with a lot of crap he would probably never use.

She then disappeared into a bath store, to no doubt buy an assortment of bath supplies he'd probably never use, leaving Harry and Ron to stare forlornly, piled with bags upon bags of shrunken furniture.

They consoled themselves by shooting some of the Weasley Emporium water-bombs into the lake, watching the small crushed bits of stone erupt into bursts of fire in the fountain by the bath store and chuckling implacably as a woman with an impressive pillar of layered hair wobble by the fountain, unknowingly catching the entire wig in flames. By the time Hermione had exited the store the two had caused quite a scene, much to the ire of the young witch.

"Honestly," She was seething furiously, dragging the two by the ears. "I don't understand how anyone can find such humor out of such a mean act of criminal injustice--"

Ron and Harry only snickered as they were pulled along, and, in a stroke of genius that only the Weasley Twins would have ever conjured up, were able to trap Hermione in a bubble courtesy of Weasley Emporium's Bubble-Your-Mother spray (which drove Mrs. Weasley to the dogs every time she was caught in one) and leapt away to find the confectionary store, that had one of those large bags of Burtie Bott's Every Flavored Beans, which Harry could keep in his kitchen and keep for most likely forever, judging from the size of them. By the time she had caught up to them the two had already ransacked almost half the store, buying Harry more candy than he could probably eat in his entire lifetime, much to the dismay of Ron, who was now quickly become more and more depressed at the fact Harry would no longer be living with him, and hence, no longer sharing his candy.

The day ended much faster than Harry wished it to, and by dusk they had all the shopping done.

With a heavy heart Harry flooed with them to his new house, which looked even more desolate then when it did with hazy light streaming in. The time difference from London to Forks was eight hours, and it was nearly four in the morning when the floo spit them out. His two friends looked around his deserted house, casting Lumos bright enough that Harry could make out their sullen, empathetic expressions. Hermione immediately cast a

Lumos Maximus to brighten the entire house, and began to string up furniture like Christmas decorations. Harry was reminded of when Flitwick had strung decorations on the massive trees Hagrid had dragged in on his first Hogwarts Christmas, the items floating around strangely and placing themselves with ease, and the vile taste of longing welled in his throat. The dim, wintry spill of a thousand candles as they shone above the great hall, stars and swirls of light a kaleidoscope of burning brightness, and utter silence as the very last of the Great Hall's inhabitants dwindle out of the room, and Ron, Hermione and Harry sit still and breathless, watching as the magic flickers once, twice, before all the candles release in a hushed whisper. The magic in the halls of which he had called home since his eleventh birthday, the rain as it pattered against the dorm widow, Ron's limp form in the bed beside him shaking with each snore. Neville smiling at him crookedly as he pulled open the blinds, shattered sunlight dappling the boys face and hair, the side of his bed sheets, and his own eyes and the rest of the dorm groaning because only Neville would want to get up this god damn early.

The Lumos was cancelled when Hermione plugged in the lamps they had purchased, (which was bought in the muggle world, because people in Diagon Alley looked at them oddly when they asked) and they were all still silent.

"I'm gonna miss you mate," Ron hugged him sadly. "Sure, I suppose'll see you in all our classes," And he grimaced at that, no doubt remembering a particularly eventful afternoon in Herbology, including poisonous drool and a handful of spiked leaves. "But what about all our after hour adventures?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "I'm sure I can get some wiggle room…and I'll plead with Professor Dumbledore to let me go for Hogsmeade weekend. I don't even care if I need to have Aurors trailing me."

"We'll miss you." Hermione sniffled feebly.

Ron nodded dully. "Yeah, mate."

Hermione and Ron ducked back into the fireplace, and Harry could remember the watery look Hermione had given him as she mouthed the location of Hogwarts, dust seeping from her palm, and sitting bonelessly on his couch, watching the darkness around the lifeless, silent, wilderness.

* * *

_Right, so I've noticed that many xover HP and Twilight stories have a median of about two thousand words per chapter. Which is annoying, to say the least. So I'll keep my chapters around five thousand to six._

_But anyway, thoughts?_


	2. Hide and Seek

_updated... May 22, 2010.

* * *

_

_l--l_

_trains and sowing machines, _

_oil marks appear on walls where pleasant moments hung before_

_the take over,_

_the sweeping insensitivity _

_that still lies._

_Hide and Seek._

_l--l_

_x. Imogen Heap_

Harry Potter awoke to silence.

An odd feeling, one he had never experienced except for rare occasions at the Dursley's in which Petunia was out fretting with her vapid friends and Vernon at work, while Dudley was more than likely getting high somewhere. At Hogwarts, such a moment would be nothing short of a blessing, because a time without Ron's snoring or Dean's inability to pass the night without shifting were few and far between. And Neville for some unforeseeable reason enjoyed waking up before the bird's and sun, and singing in the shower. Surely, such an occurrence should be celebrated beyond belief.

Yet Harry awoke with a coiling, wrenching feeling in his stomach.

A strange little amalgamation of emotions that left him feeling numb, eyes opening to the dark black curtains covering his windows, lamp beside him courtesy of Hermione glimmering a dark blue to signify his equally darkened mood.

In America, it was ten at night. In Scotland, it was around six in the morning.

It was perforce which made him sprawl out of bed and look at his dull reflection for an indefinite amount of time, studying the jagged line which scarred his forehead, the avada kadevra of his eyes, the thin line of his mouth.

He wondered what Dumbledore was thinking when he bought this house. Overall, the entire place had an airy feel to it, with an inordinate amount of windows that left no privacy (albeit, there was nothing around but masses of forestry) in nearly ever room, including his bedroom. The windows fully covered two walls, from floor to ceiling, and Harry had taken to using thick black curtains infused with the Twin's Peruvian instant darkness to keep out the sun that enjoyed creeping up to him. He arrived here around seven p.m. depending on the day and Dumbledore's mood—for if it was a particularly worried one; he usually had floo immediately after classes—and arrived at eleven in the morning, Seattle Washington Time.

He got up hurriedly, hoping to catch some breakfast at Hogwarts because his fridge was dreadfully empty. And, let's face it, a breakfast of a handful of Bertie Botts, two thirds of them most likely inedible flavors, was not much of a breakfast.

He showered as long as possible (for once, a blessing in the wretched house) mainly due to the fact Neville wasn't there to sing about, and Dean wasn't sleeping in one of the stalls and wasting the water, and Seamus wasn't walking around partially naked rubbing his face in hopes for facial hair.

He grabbed all his stuff littered around the house as he ran a hand through his hair. The potions book he so worshipped practically had a shrine on his living room table, while his Charm's essay and Transfiguration book were in the kitchen, and his Herbology project was shaking on his kitchen counter. His hand's worked faster as he tried to disentangle all the knots in his hair, while worriedly thinking that perhaps it wasn't good if his Flutterby plant was shaking so considerably. Was it supposed to do that? Usually he'd just ask Neville…but seeing as though said Herbology prodigy wasn't there, he grabbed a handful of powder and ducked into his fireplace.

"Hogwarts, Scotland!"

He hoped he hadn't forgotten anything, a frazzled look in his eyes as he checked his bags and books once more, papers and parchment fluttering everywhere before the emerald flames enclosed him.

The seething green flames parted enough for him to exit the floo, dusting himself off and pleased that the fireplace hadn't spit him out again.

Dumbledore's office looked the same as yesterday, omitting the Headmaster, and lined with many snoozing portraits.

The Gaunt Ring was still on his desk, and Harry felt strange just being near it. He keenly remembered their lesson on Tom Riddle.

He quickly went down to breakfast, hoping to catch Ron or Hermione along the way. He didn't, but he did meet up with Seamus, who looked as if he had just woken up and was missing a couple buttons off his shirt. "I usually wake up to you," Seamus groaned to him as they walked along. "Cause you've got perfect timing. Neville's too early, and so is Dean. And Ron's always late. 'Course, without you I ended up being later then Ron anyway…" The great hall was crowded, but Harry noted a lot of the Slytherins weren't there. Ron was already inhaling his food, and Hermione was picking hers daintily, as if in deep thought. He wedged between them, and Hermione immediately brightened.

"Oh, you're here!" She near beamed at him in relief.

He furrowed his brows. "Err…yeah. Why's that such a good thing?"

Hermione sent a furtive glance to Ron, who didn't seem to notice much past his food. "No reason, really. Anyway, are you coming to the Hogsmeade weekend? It's in two weeks, you know."

Harry had been around for the past two weekends, but Dumbledore didn't seem entirely pleased by this notion. However, he was fairly certain that the Headmaster would be benign enough to let him go to Hogsmeade. It was _Hogsmeade._ He'd be terribly rude to not let a student go simply because he has a vague intuition of danger.

"I think I am." He then blinked. "I _hope _I am." He amended.

Hermione sighed and sent him a rather disheveled, almost pleading look, but it was already time for class and Ron and him had to head out for Charms.

Flitwick was in nothing short of a supreme mood, near cataclysmic in his inordinate bouncing and loud, joyous voice.

Harry quickly took his place near Ron, already a bit anxious for the class to come. Flitwick in such a spectacular mood was nothing short of scary. Of course, the real worry was his class afterwards, and he was more then concerned about what sort of detentions Snape would throw at him this time around. He still had to make up his last detention, of which had been postponed greatly since the start of the school. To his surprise, Luna sat next to him, giving him a rather complex smile before turning her head to peer crookedly at the teacher. Harry wasn't sure what to make from it, as this was a Sixth Year class and Luna was certainly not a Sixth Year.

"Well, sixth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, I'm pleased to say we will be studying the," And, with a flourish, the astoundingly short professor whirled his wand in a pattern Harry couldn't quite follow, and levitated a stack of books off of his desk. "Mobiliarbus charm today."

Many sent him quizzical looks, and Flitwick pulled out a large tome.

"Once more? Ah, well then," With an intricate swish, he shouted, "Mobiliarbus!" And the book moved in tandem with his wand.

Flitwick seemed pleased with himself, while the rest of the class suppressed a groan.

"How am I supposed to get that?" Ron leaned over, quite concerned. "I mean, I barely got Wingardium Leviosa in our first year!" He elaborated quickly, sending darting glances across the room, where students were already beginning to move their objects with some sort of mastery.

Harry sent him an empathetic gaze, and tried to help him out.

"Well, I think your biggest problem is that you don't get the movement right…"

Of course, it was entirely hypocritical of him to say that, when his own was ridiculously abysmal.

"Perhaps its because of the Gulping Pimplies in his ears," Luna smiled rather conversationally, although her eyes were somewhere near the ceiling.

Ron and Harry didn't know what to say to that, and only nodded absentmindedly. Luna had always said such strange things like that, but they had never really known how to take it. Sure, she was a very good friend of theirs (or, more of Harry's really) and always had good advice…even though most of the time said advice didn't make sense to anyone but her. Harry tried another round of Mobiliarbus, along with Ron. Neither of the two produced very much out of it, but Harry's did seem to quiver for a moment before falling flat. He wished he had his more of his mother's ability in charms; it would certainly help him greatly.

Finally, after many useless attempts, he turned to Luna.

"And what are, Gulping Pimplies, anyway?"

Luna's silvery eyes gazed at him dazedly, before she turned back to her perfectly levitating book. "Their strange little creatures. They cloud thoughts. Some say they're brought by love." She turned to him, and he noticed a lock of flaxen hair was levitating along with her book. "Of course, you have quite a handful as well."

Harry blinked. "I…I do?"

She nodded, swishing her wand around so that her book, her wand, and her hair flowed around in circles. "Why yes. But don't worry, they're quite easy to get rid of. All you need is some Gurdyroot."

He shook his head, and tried another Mobiliarbus.

"Where could I get some of that?" He mused to her, although it was more to humor her then for actual interest.

Luna smiled evasively. "Lots of places really. I hear they grow a lot around where you live."

Harry turned to her, and was about to ask her if she even knew where he lived, and what exactly she was referring to when she said that, when Ron's wayward book near slammed him in the head. He turned around to hiss at Ron about horrible timing, but the redhead had jolted his wand and the book came swinging back. Harry ducked again.

"Ron!"

The Weasley smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry Harry! Its just…not….working…"

As he spoke, he struggled with the book that tottered in the air like in three-sixty degree spins, and gripped two hands on his wand like he was struggling with a bull.

Harry spun around to Luna, but she was already gone.

"Where did she—?"

* * *

Emmett rolled around to get a better position on the couch.

In front of him, the widescreen was turned to a sports channel, in which a team of men in red and white battled each other out on an ice rink, moving fluently passed defenders and dribbling a puck. Emmett seemed engrossed, and Rosalie was sulking on one of the loveseats to the side, magazine in hand. The latter of the two didn't look particularly engrossed in her reading, and was flickering her gaze between her boyfriend and the TV that had him so interested.

Alice twirled down the stairs, her feet nearly off the ground, as she spun to the bottom of the staircase and leaned over the couch.

Emmett didn't notice her.

She grinned and, with enough clarity that Emmett couldn't pretend he didn't hear, said; "Caps lose."

"Alice!" He growled, taking a pillow and chucking it at her.

Said vampire only ducked with ease, and combed back her short hair, eyes wide and fairy-like.

"But you probably could have figured that out yourself," She smiled slyly, as she looked at the score that read; 'five, zero'.

He huffed in annoyance, but continued to watch anyways, with subdued interest.

Rosalie finally pushed the magazine away, and turned to Alice. "Where's Edward? I thought he was with you?"

Alice shook her head, as she moved into the kitchen.

"He said he'll stay a couple more days in the mountains, just in case." And then, she added, "It'll be sunny this whole week."

"Think its got anything to do with that girl in his class?" Emmett leaned over the sofa, turning the TV off after deciding that he'd rather not watch his favorite team get shut out.

Alice hummed thoughtfully. While she was fairly certain that Bella was only Edward's singer, there could always be more possibilities. She had seen many different outcomes, most of which including Edward getting hurt by the girl, and including a Werewolf from La Push. Although most of her visions as of late were cloudy and distant, almost vague in their whorls of imagery, lost in a world without words filled with bottle-green eyes and feather-light fingertips, pale cheeks with the smallest spray of freckles just beneath dark lashes. And there was something capricious about the mouth, a slight curve to it, thin, lyrical, but it felt as if the most important part of this face wasn't any of those, there was something much more important, much more dangerous... the more she thought of it, Edward's future seemed to twist away from her, the more she pried, the more it danced away. Hopefully she'd get a better reading when said brother was around.

"I suppose," She answered, evasively.

Emmett didn't look like he took it as a decent answer, but said nothing, walking over to Rosalie's seat and plopping comfortably next to her.

"I think she's horrid." Rosalie sniffed, motioning to the girl in question. "Too plain, really."

Alice blinked suddenly, before turning to her sister. "What color are her eyes?" She thought of blades of grass billowing in the sunshine, verdant as meadows.

Rosalie looked near scandalized. "How would _I _know? You don't possibly think I'd take the time to look at her, would you? She's much to…boring. And depressing. Watching her is like watching a corpse. I don't know why Edward's take such an interest in her. Really, such a slip of a girl, its rather amusing actually—

Alice didn't seem to be paying attention to Rosalie at all, though.

The petite vampire was leaning against the counter, looking past the windows into the brightening sky. The sun rose until claret red washed the horizon line, swirling into peaches and saffron until it lit the Prussian sky with hands of purple, twisting into the twinkling stars and grabbing the moon. The mountains rose in crisp lines, their edges turning gold with the sun's ascension.

"Are you even listening?" Rosalie frowned at her, as she noted that her sister seemed to be more interested in the dawn.

"Sorry, Rose," She giggled. "I just had a…dream, I guess."

"A dream?" Emmett wiggled closer to Rosalie, until the girl was in his lap. "I thought they were visions."

"Oh no," Her eyes sparkled. "This wasn't a vision…"

She turned to the fridge, and opened it.

Esme enjoyed stocking their fridge with food, even though none of them ever ate any. But she loved cooking, and everyday sweet aromas that could turn any human into a mouth-watering mess filled their kitchen. Alice looked around, holding up onions and inspecting them with great care.

"Onions?" Rosalie raised a brow.

Alice tapped her chin thoughtfully. "No, no, these aren't it…"

The two lovebirds on the seat sent each other quizzical looks.

Alice turned to them, questioning lightly, "Have any of you ever seen onions up on the mountain?"

"Onions?" They asked in unison. Alice could be so strange…

"I'm a little too busy hunting to notice onions, Alice." Emmett pointed out, shrugging.

Alice sighed.

* * *

The following day, Friday, Harry went to the library.

He had just been released from Snape's hell-hole slash detention and was sent to make a two foot essay on Vampires. The loon really knew how to pick subjects, because Harry was fairly sure that they had never covered Vampires before and he wasn't inclined to read up on them. He asked Hermione, who scribbled him a long list of books in the library that could help him. The list must have been twenty strong, and Harry skimmed the first few titles and decided that he could live with only taking a couple books. Madame Pince seemed to hate him with a passion, and as he entered the library eyed him like Filch eyes first years, a strange mixture of pleasure and annoyance. Like the squib caretaker, she probably harbored a strange fetish of getting people in trouble, and enjoyed giving detentions.

He picked out what he hoped to be the easiest reads, including but not limited to, "Vampires, an Encyclopedia", "Dark Creatures", and "Dan Bergstein's Extensive Read on Vampires".

As he walked back to the headmaster's office, he saw Luna staring vacantly at the ceiling, where birds were placed in a large, wiry, birdcage. Her hair, as usual, stuck up in odd angles and its winter-wheat coloring looked lighter with the backdrop of Hogwarts dreary corridors.

"Why hello Harry."

"Hullo, Luna." He nodded back at her.

She sent him a dreamy smile.

"Watch out for those Gulping Pimplies, you're catching quite a lot of them." She added.

He flooed back to his house, which was still in its perpetual pigsty state, and set the large books down. It was five in the afternoon in Scotland, and right about now he'd be eating dinner with Ron and Hermione, enjoying pumpkin juice and as many desserts as he could. Of course, his stomach took the moment to rumble uncontrollably, and he meandered over to his fridge where he hoped food had mysteriously appeared. Naturally, there wasn't anything in there but a couple grapes and curdled milk. Harry groaned aloud. He sat on his kitchen table and wondered what time it was here. With a quick Tempus, he found that it was nine in the morning. Great.

"Accio, map." He waved his wand, and the map came fluttering down.

The nearest grocery store was quite a hike away, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to get there.

Nevertheless, he trudged along in the crisping sunshine, wondering what his friends were up to.

Like the rest of Forks, the grocery store gave off the notion of a small-town kind of shop, run-down and rusting at the corners, doubling as a gas station. The entire town gave off that sort of appeal, and Harry was certain the only people he'd find around here were old women with lots of squalling cats and weird elderly couples who had lived here all their lives and put strange pink flamingoes on their lawn and ran around at three in the morning with shotguns complaining about, "damn squirrels". It was hard to imagine anything else.

The people in the gas station gave him strange looks as he entered.

He took a quick check of his appearance. He had a plain shirt with muggle jeans. He didn't seem to look strange. His hair was a bit long, and a rather long lock of hair curled just below his ear.

He grabbed a carton of juice (hoping it wouldn't go bad as quickly as milk) and a muffin.

As he approached the counter, the woman looked at him questioningly.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?" She asked him with a confused look.

He stuttered a bit, before answering; "No."

She didn't see too convinced, however.

The shop door opened again, and a pretty girl stepped in, with a small bounce to her step.

Overall, she reminded Harry sorely of Luna, but he wasn't particularly sure why. Perhaps it was how she seemed to look at weird things that catch her attention, or she gave off the aura that she wasn't…all there. Like a part of her had walked away or was captivated with something else. She seemed to look around, before catching his eye. He gulped and hurriedly paid for his food, and was about to walk out when she caught up to him. She had a pert nose, and made him think of those fairies Flitwick had put on the great Christmas tree his first year. Very lithe and small, and the only thing she was missing were wings and a height of five inches. She tapped his shoulder, and as he spun around, her grin grew wide.

"I don't believe we've met before." She began. "But you're eyes look very familiar. They're so…"

"Green?" He finished.

She nodded. "Yes! I've never seen anything like it! Are you from around here?"

He shrugged vaguely. "Just moved."

"Oh, that must be very hard." The girl hummed, and he opened the door for her and she curtsied lightly. She wore clothes a lot like Luna, too. While Luna's were magical, and one of her shirts consisted of one thousand beating lacewings, the girl wore contemporary clothing that didn't entirely match but seemed to go well together. "Where do you live?"

Harry stopped for a moment, before opting to say, "Around the valley, just before the mountains."

The girl seemed to pause a moment, before turning to him. "You seem like a pretty cool guy." She said cheerfully. "Want to go get coffee sometime?"

Harry gaped, completely taken off guard. What should he say to that?

The girl seemed to notice his very confused and surprised facial expression, and began to giggle uncontrollably. Giggling usually hurt his ears and made him think of Lavender Brown, but hers was almost musical. "Not like a date or anything!" She pressed on. "Just as friends."

Relieved, he nodded. "Sounds great."

"I'm Alice, by the way." She held out her hand.

He shook it, and smiled. "I'm Harry."

Her expression took on a far-off look, before she quickly came back to Earth. This time, her grin was even wider. "It's fantastic to meet you!"

There was something strange about her, though. Maybe it was her eyes, the color of sunflower petals. Very unusual. Her entire posture, actually. He got a strange vibe from her, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"You too." He answered sincerely. Harry was beginning to think he'd be something of a hermit in Forks, yet he'd already made a friend.

Outside, the sky had darkened and clouds hovered in the sky, like sheep in a meadow. Alice bounded over to a shiny car in the lot. He supposed that if he was a muggle, he'd have known what kind. It was sleek and Harry supposed it must have been quite expensive. From the way Dudley whined about getting a car, he thought it must be one of the ones Dudley threw temper tantrums in hopes of getting. And definitely not one Vernon could afford with his plebian job.

"Meet me tomorrow at the Coffee shop downtown!" She called to him with a wave. "At four, alright?"

"Sure." He called back, and watched the car pull out of the parking lot bemusedly.

It wasn't until he was walking home that he realized that four in Forks meant twelve midnight at Hogwarts.

And then he groaned.

By one in the afternoon the next day, Harry was already beginning to rub sleep out of his eyes. His Flutterby plant was still pitifully shaking, but Neville had told him that the more it shook, the better its condition. Quite honestly Harry couldn't see how that worked, because he more he looked at it, the more he was certain it was withering. He had worked on the essay a little bit, before switching to Mcgonagall's Transfiguration essay. Harry had no idea why the teacher's collaborated to give the longest essays thus far in the school year in unison. And to make matters worse, Snape had assigned him one as well. On vampires, no less. Mcgonagall wanted him to write on the change from an inanimate object to a living creature. In class they turned plates into cats, something which he found easy. Perhaps it was because his father was so handy at Transfiguration.

He groaned, and went to his kitchen to retrieve a plate.

Coughing, he swished his wand, and muttered the incantation.

In front of him was a fat purple striped cat.

He gaped.

Before he could cancel the spell, the cat leapt from his counter and scampered away, probably to some unknown area of his house. Quite forlorn and unsure what to do, Harry grabbed a couple more plates and went back to his table filled with books and his Transfiguration essay that only had four words on it. Of course, in Hogwarts his essay wouldn't even have been started until the final hours of Sunday afternoon, and Hermione would be so pleased to see his essays being done on the first day of the weekend. However, she wasn't here now to congratulate him.

Twenty minutes later found seven new cats, most of which either abnormally fat or abnormally colored.

If Hedwig was here, and not in the Hogwarts owlery, he was sure she'd be squawking at all of them.

At least he figured out how he changed them all.

By the time he cracked open his Vampire books, it was already eleven thirty in Scotland. As he peered at the sunbeams pouring from his open windows, Harry was sure that it had to be around two or three in the afternoon, and he'd promised Alice he'd meet her around four.

_Contrary to popular belief, Vampires do not wilt in sunshine_

Harry jotted down quickly, flipping through the pages with a bored expression.

_Vampire culture is centered around the Volturi, located in Volterra, Italy. Considered royalty to the vampires and act as police to others, enforcing that Vampire's existence remain a secret to the muggle world. Currently only one is a magical vampire. Volturi Leader Caius currently holds a spot on Wizengamot…_

Most of it was boring and not entirely interesting, something Harry had hoped it would be. Vampire culture was much of what he thought it would be, eating humans, hiding form muggles, and while unknown from the muggle world, well known enough in the Wizarding world. Or at least enough to have a couple books on their culture in Hogwart's library. He doubted many vampires outside of this Vulturi knew much of the wizarding world's existence.

_Vampire's have dark red eyes. However, it is known that a vampire who relies on the blood of animals have a distinct golden color to their pupils—_

Harry abruptly stopped reading in shock, and his quill's quick-work tempo came to a halt.

Alice was a vampire.

Either that, or she simply had weird colored eyes.

But Harry would bet on the former.

He cursed quietly. So that was why he had that weird vibe from her, and the more he thought about it, the more he thought about the way he felt around Professor Lupin. Did Dumbledore know that there was a vampire here? Did the Order know? They obviously weren't a threat, if they had golden eyes. Harry was a bit more concerned for the vampire's safety. If there is only one magical vampire in the entirety of their society, they probably weren't immune to spells. If the Order attacked them in concern for Harry's safety…

Harry snapped the book shut, and cast a Tempus.

He headed over to meet Alice.

As the two sat for coffee, Harry wasn't entirely sure how to broach the subject.

The more they chatted, the more he was certain that she was a vampire. True to the book's word, her eyes were bright like saffron daisies, and her skin was much too pale. Although, it wasn't uncommon for such smooth alabaster skin (Harry was keenly aware that Malfoy's had the same pearl coloring) the temperature of her skin was almost icy when their hands accidently brushed. Nothing like a Dementor, but as if she had spent a long time outside and had forgotten to wear gloves. Harry was reminded of Luna the more he looked at her. She had docile features, and her short hair accented her small nose and big eyes. She had a pleasant smile, and finely lined features, but for some reason, he didn't feel attracted to her at all.

They hadn't talked about much else besides the dreary town of Forks and its equally dreary townsfolk. Harry voiced his opinions on its name, and asked Alice if she knew a particular reason why the town was named after an eating utensil. Alice only laughed heartily, and said she and her family had only moved a couple years ago. He learned that she had quite a large family, and all of her siblings weren't related to her. (Harry wanted to laugh, because that only made sense because her siblings were probably turned as well) Her eldest brother, Edward, and her eldest sister, Rosalie, were whom she talked about the most. Followed closely by Jasper, whom Alice quietly revealed to him that Jasper also was her boyfriend. Harry, again, wanted to laugh, and tell her that he completely understood. Mainly because he knew they were vampires, and it wasn't very strange for her to be dating Jasper at all. If vampires even called it dating at all. Harry confessed that he had lost his parents, and didn't have any family besides his rude Aunt and Uncle.

"How dreadful…" Alice whispered empathetically, as he told her of his experiences at the Dursley's.

"Its alright." He laughed. "I go to boarding school, so it hardly matters."

"Boarding school?" Alice tilted her head. "Shouldn't you be in school, then?"

Harry bit his lip, and struggled to answer. "Well…I took a year off to travel abroad. Which is why I'm here…" He paused unnaturally, looking as if he was thinking quite seriously, before he continued. "In Forks."

Alice nodded. "I see. I'm very sorry to hear about your relatives, though."

"I've got a lot of people that I'd consider my family though. Like my best mate—err, best friend—Ron. And Hermione, too. They're both in my year, and I consider them my siblings." He elaborated, before changing subject. "But anyways, why were you at the grocery store yesterday?"

It seemed an innocent question, but Alice certainly couldn't tell him she had a vision to go there. "I was looking for these onion looking things." She tactfully left out the, _I had a vision that they would be rather important._ "But they don't really look like onions…they're green, almost lime green and they grow in the ground like onions. They smell funny too, not a bad funny, almost sweet like radishes…"

Harry blanched quickly, and, if he didn't know better, would have said she was talking about Gurdyroot.

"Onion things?" Instead, he chuckled. "That's very descriptive of you." He told her sarcastically.

She huffed. "Well, its not like I'd remember the name."

The waitress came over with their food, and Harry had ordered a chocolate cake. It was alright, but he sorely missed the Hogwarts food, prepared magically by the house elves. Eating Hogwarts food was almost like eating magic; absolutely delectable. And he missed it greatly the more he stayed in Forks. (This may or may not be due to the fact he was an unacceptable cook who could hardly bake anything that could be eaten without regurgitating it hours later) Harry noticed Alice hadn't ordered anything, and had hardly drank any of her coffee. He didn't comment on it, knowing the reason.

"So you go to school here?" He asked her, smiling.

"Yes. Forks High. Its down the road, take a left…actually, I just came from there." She motioned to her bag, and Harry thought of his own bag that weighed almost twenty pounds and required a featherlight charm to carry.

"Oh, are the classes hard?"

"Not particularly…" Alice's gaze moved to the window, where she worriedly watched the clouds. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to take the window seat, especially when the clouds were parting and sparse on the horizon.

"Those kids over there are in my class, though." Alice motioned over to a group of rowdy kids in one of the large booths at the café.

"That so?" Harry asked, although not very engaged in the conversation. He gave them a quick glance. Most of them seemed rather normal, a loud boy with choppy hair and a big goofy smile, and a small group of girls who were all rather pleasing to look at, but nothing extraordinary. Harry didn't really give them much thought, as he was more focused on how to broach the subject of Alice's…inhuman status.

"Yeah, the really loud guy is Mike Newton, and his girlfriend Jessica Stanley." Her nose shriveled as she went down the list, Harry noted. "And the quiet one is Bella Swan. And the fishy-eyed one is Lauren Mallory."

Harry nodded absently, not entirely paying attention.

He took a large breath of air, and tried to say the speech he had formed in his head moments before.

"Alice…I—

Fortunately for him, he didn't have to articulate the rest of the sentence.

Mike Newton, who had been balancing a teacup on his nose and twirling around—nearly giving their waitress a heart attack, as she fluttered about and kindly asked him to place the teacup down—took a false step and tumbled to the floor, shattering the cup. The rest of his group howled in laughter, while Mike sputtered as his clothes were soiled with hot liquid, making some sort of joke about how his mother would skewer him with a knife when she saw how ruined his new shirt was, or something like that. His girlfriend came over and started to scold him, and the one with large eyes started crooning about how she was taking him too seriously, and the introverted one stayed silent. Soon, the one who resembled a sea creature and the girlfriend were yelling insultingly at each other, and he boy was still clutching his arm.

However, that wasn't the point of interest.

Currently, it was the trail of blood making its way between the boy's clasped fingers.

Alice gripped the table quickly, and Harry noticed her attention was immediately drawn to Mike's blood.

He surveyed the situation, especially how her eyes turned black. Had she fed lately? Harry was no vampire expert, but he was certain that staying in this small, poorly ventilated shop was not the smartest of ideas. Alice drew a harsh intake of breath before she stopped breathing altogether, as her hands seemed to stop her from leaping towards the boy. The table shook for a moment, and Harry looked down at his half empty cup, where the coffee's surface refracted his face in the choppy waves caused by Alice's shaking.

While the entire ordeal must have lasted perhaps two seconds, and Alice regained her composure, she met Harry's eyes and stared guiltily.

"Uh…I…" Alice gulped, looking almost frightened as she met Harry's unwavering gaze.

But Harry only gave her a pleasant smile, before asking her in the most gentleman-way; "Perhaps we should go outside?"

The air was chilly and a bit biting, even though it wasn't even a couple weeks into September. The sky was rumbling about, and a large storm cloud had blocked the sun until the farthest reaches of the horizon, much to Alice's fortune. Of course, it hardly mattered now. The café was placed on a hill, and didn't have a lot for cars, so many were simply littered around the sprawling hill. Harry tried to eyeball the distance between the café and his house, thinking it had to be about five minutes, and even less by car. And while he didn't know how to drive, he was sure that Alice could figure her way to his house.

"Why don't we talk about this at my house?" He asked with much tact, and Alice only nodded.

When they pulled up at his driveway, in the large clearing in the forest, Alice's eyes widened.

"This is…" She gasped softly. "The house…"

"The house?" Harry echoed, as they stepped out of her car.

She sent him a worried glance, before nodding. "Yes, this house. I mean, my brother—Edward—and I were walking in the forest, when we stumbled upon this house. There was an old man here and a woman with purple hair. And they, well, I'm not sure how to explain it. They walked back inside and there was this cracking noise. Like a gunshot. We thought someone had a gun, so we went in to see…but no one was there." She confessed, watching for his reaction.

A part of her thought that he would look at her like she was crazy, but he only nodded.

"Oh. That was Dumbledore and Tonks. They probably apparated out of here."

"Apparate?" Alice repeated, quite lost.

Harry only sent her a benign smile. "Let's just talk about it inside."

Alice nodded, and made her way into the house. She wasn't sure what to expect. At first, she was certain that Harry would have jumped back in shock, and shouted to the rest of the café that she was a vampire. Alice's first reaction was to immediately tell him she had a phobia against blood, and even the merest glance sent her shaking and made her faint. However, the look on his face told her that he wasn't going to buy that, and perhaps she should explain to him in detail rather then letting him draw his own conclusions on what she is. Harry hadn't seemed very scared of her, which was supposedly the first reaction that any human had to a vampire. Instead, he seemed to take it in stride.

Harry opened the door to his house (it was unlocked, Alice noticed) and a blue spotted cat yowled and leapt into the lawn.

Alice gaped.

"Sorry." Harry chuckled, as a tabby green one chased after it. "They were…well, they were a project."

The house was much different then what she remembered from her first encounter with it. Instead of a barren entrance hall, it was well furnished. The most intriguing part were the moving pictures that lined the hall with antique frames that were faded in their chrome coloring, as if they had been passed down by generation. On entrance walls was a picture of a redheaded woman and a man with dark hair and glasses, who looked a lot like Harry. "My mother and father," he told her conversationally, and she watched it curiously as the woman smiled wider and hugged the man, and the man waved. In the background, the fountain's waters ran down and birds took flight into a bright gray sky. The bottom said, "Hello, from Venice, Italy."

There was another large cat in the living room, this one striped purple and magenta, with a malformed tail that looked more like a raccoon's.

A peculiar house, if she ever saw one.

In his kitchen, she saw a plant that shook with fervor, and there were must have been four or so saucers in conspicuous places around the house. His ceiling fan, she noted from the racket it made, was a circle of birds which flew furiously in circles, creating a slight wind in the otherwise stuffy room. The bookshelf that rested on the wall which separated the kitchen from the living room was re-organizing itself, large tomes dropping out of the shelves to hover in the air as they rearranged themselves into alphabetical order by author.

"Sorry it's a mess." Harry motioned to the living room coffee table, which was littered with large books. Alice watched, fascinated, as a quill wrote notes on the shaking plant all on its own.

"What…" She began, but didn't quite know what to say. "How…"

Harry picked up a book that was on his living room table, and showed her the cover.

She gasped softly.

"That's how I know who you are," Harry motioned to the large letters that read, _Vampires; an Encyclopedia. _"My Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher really hates me, and is making me write a two foot essay on vampires. I guess I got pretty lucky, because if it wasn't for this, I wouldn't have any idea what you are."

"I think the better question is; what are you?" She giggled slightly, as she touched the shaking plant.

Harry seemed to pause and think. "Well, I'm a wizard. I go to a wizarding school called Hogwarts, in Scotland. It's a boarding school, like I told you." He made a motion to the fireplace. "This isn't an ordinary fireplace. It doesn't light fires. It's a floo. A floo is a way of transportation between Wizarding houses, kind of like teleportation. I floo to school every morning."

"I see!" Alice put a hand to her mouth. "Curiouser and curiouser…"

Harry opened his mouth, before the blue spotted cat rushed into the living room.

It made a move to jump onto the couch, causing the purple striped one to hiss menacingly. Before it could land the jump, however, it turned back into a dinner plate. Alice gasped and watching in fascination.

"How did it do that?" She bounded over to the plate, and touched it. It made no move to turn back into a cat.

Harry chuckled. At least Alice seemed to enjoy magic, much unlike his muggle relatives.

"It's part of my Transfiguration project." Harry said, conversationally. "I transform a plate into a cat. Of course, the plate will only stay as a cat depending on how much magic you used. For example," He motioned to the large cat on his chair. "I put too much magic into that one, and I think he'll be around for quite a while."

Alice's eyes moved to the cat, who purred contentedly as she scratched its ears. "So if I name it, it won't be turned into a dish when I come back?" She teased.

He smiled. "Nope."

"Cheshire, then." She giggled. "The Cheshire cat."

Alice took another look around the room, her eyes lit up in something akin to wonder. "This is just so wonderful! I've never _seen _magic before. I mean, I've heard of it…but it's so…so…magical!"

Harry stifled a yawn, before casting a Tempus. Alice watched, immersed.

"Oh, it must be around one in the morning there," She frowned thoughtfully, before her face split into a grin. "I suppose I should get going then. Do you mind if I drop back in tomorrow?"

Harry shook his head. "No, not at all."

He waved her off, as she jumped down his front steps and looked bemusedly at the green cat on his lawn. She waved him farewell and sped out of the clearing, and Harry decided that he'd either have to get a muggle license or an apparition license, whichever came first. Of course, they were only beginning the Hogwart's apparition course, and he doubted he'd have one until next year. Muggle driving it is, then. He sighed. He'd have to find some place he could learn, and he didn't have the slightest idea where that may be.

Harry's first thought, however, was to get some sleep.

* * *

_Dont worry, Edward's in the next chapter._

_So? thoughts?_


	3. Seaweed Song

_I make stuff up for my enjoyment._

_l--l_

_the current pulls me in, _

_the tide has reached my chin._

_and seaweed tickles skin,_

_just let the water win._

_seaweed song_

_l--l_

_x. passion pit_

Alice Cullen tapped Harry's door softly in the bright early dawn of Sunday morning.

Harry opened the door groggily, fully knowing there was a cat wrapped on his shoulder. His hair was tousled and dark, glowing gold on the edges in the bright morning sunshine, the sun a benign presence on the horizon line and floating like a peach that peeled onto the ground bellow in large strokes of sunlight. Alice giggled as she noticed Cheshire, who yowled in discontent from his perch, and leapt to the ground. Harry looked as if he hadn't slept much since the last Alice saw of him, even though surely he was inclined to. She suspected it may have something do with the unfinished essay she could see on his living room table, the parchment spilling from the glass surface to roll around on the floor. The worst of it was, the whole thing had scrawling pen on it.

"I brought you flowers!" She greeted cheerfully, and allowed herself in as Harry left the door opened and hunched back over to his seat.

"Thanks," He replied pleasantly, even though it came out strained considering his current state.

She dropped them onto the living room table, which was cluttered with large tomes and quills, empty ink pots and parchment. She gave a great heave, and was rewarded with the heady, undecipherable mist which was diffused into the room like a sleepy daydream in the back of her head, a scent which she simply could not define, but could utterly consider the smell of magic. If, magic, really had much of a scent at all.

Alice looked around curiously, hands behind her back. Esme had gotten a large vase of wild flowers from the mountains when she went up there to visit Edward that early morning. Apparently Edward was extending his stay, and Alice had warned him that it was cloudy already. He didn't say anything, before breathlessly joking that perhaps it was time for a couple sick days. Alice didn't quite see the humor in it, but when she told Harry he laughed. "Because vampires can't get sick." Harry grinned, and Alice only tilted her head in confusion on how it could possibly be much of a joke at all.

She toyed with a bright red wildflower in the vase Harry had quickly conjured for her out of a pebble, as Harry settled back into his chair to finish his Transfiguration essay.

She propped her feet onto the table and grabbed his vampire essay, written in his sloppy near chicken-scratch like handwriting.

"My boyfriend, Jasper," She was saying, "Hasn't been doing well lately. You see, he can feel people's emotions, it's his power, and it makes him conscious of human contact." Alice paused, and frowned thoughtfully. "And he's still recent to the whole vegetarian lifestyle, and sometimes the blood gets to him. He was worried a lot about the new school year...the inevitable paper cuts...scratches in gym class..." She trailed off pointedly, and flipped another page in the essay she was self-proclaiming to proofread.

Harry frowned thoughtfully, and thought that it might be a nice favor to bring the vampire some blood pops when he went to Hogsmeade. _If _he was even allowed. Dumbledore had been mysteriously absent as of late to ask.

Alice took her leave around noon, saying her mother was going out for shopping and she wanted Alice to accompany her. Personally, Harry didn't see the point. Its not like vampires ate any food anyway. But he didn't voice his opinions, assuming it was some sort of mother daughter ritual of some sort. He spent the rest of the day finishing up his essays and writing about his Herbology project, wistfully thinking how much easier the process would be if he was still in the Gryffindor common room with Neville to help him. In fact, with the entire body of Gryffindors to help him. He never realized how much he took Hermione for granted until recently. He and Ron always grumbled about how she never did their homework like they wanted her too, but she did always pick out books for them and start them off with some good ideas, both of which he could use desperately right now.

* * *

Forks was ominously silent when Harry left, however, Hogwarts seemed to be in a near perpetual state of uproar.

Charms hadn't been a breeze, like Harry had thought it would be. While his mobiliarbus charm was certainly up to sniff, before he could perfect it Flitwick had changed and ran to an entirely new direction. They were know required to know the Aguamenti charm by tomorrow, to which Ron groaned loudly and near threw his head onto the table. Harry wished he could do the same, but he was much too tired from his Transfiguration essay to even bother with such strenuous physical activities like throwing the upper half of his body into a plank of wood.

As Flitwick merrily continued on with the charm (and much to Ron's growing horror, they were supposed to learn nonverbally) as the class flustered about trying to repeat the process.

Luna turned to Harry, as she conjured water with one hand, and tilted her head owlishly. Her spectacles were on upside down, and Harry wondered what it was like to see with them on.

"Having trouble?" She blinked at him.

Harry gave the Aguamenti another go, this time the goblet in front of him spouted yellow water. He grumbled, and took a look at Luna's, which was perfectly clear.

"A little." He admitted.

She nodded at him happily—Harry was about to ask why she was so happy, when she motioned towards his head; "You seem to have found more Gulping Pimplies. Goodness, what were you doing this weekend?"

At a loss for words, he looked away from her conjured water to watch her confusedly. "Luna, I'm afraid I don't even know how you get Gulping Pimplies at all."

Luna didn't answer him, instead looking past him to Ron. "And you've got quite a handful, right there. More so then yesterday, I'd think. I suppose they ought to have near clouded you completely."

Startled, Ron's water burst in a colorful rainbow, to which everyone but Ron applauded for its vibrant—but altogether useless—light show. "Handful of what?"

"Gulping Pimplies." Luna supplied to him helpfully.

Ron's look turned sour, and he looked as if he was about to retort with some rather crass words to Luna's mental stability, when he shut his mouth suddenly. "You think that's why I'm not doing well in my classes?"

She nodded, and Harry noticed how her hair seemed to move in the opposite direction. "Oh yes, certainly."

He opened his mouth again, but Luna cut him off. "You get rid of them with Gurdyroot. They're found in mountains in cold temperatures." With a frightfully insightful look at him, she added. "Like Forks, Washington."

The rest of the class period was spent in a similar fashion, as Ron's charms continued to work abysmally, and Harry's continued to turn up in different colors. Luna's, however, worked beautifully, and she seemed to have no trouble at all. Perhaps, that was why she was accelerated into the sixth year's Charms class instead of the Fifth year's.

Harry tried to copy her movements, but it didn't work as well for him. Next to him, Ron's head hit the table a final time, and stayed there for the duration of the class, much to Flitwick's ire.

They exited slowly, as Ron muttered crossly about how stupid Flitwick was, and Harry was too busy thinking about the Venemous Tentactula waiting to strangle him in the Herbology greenhouses.

"By the way Harry, could you get me some Gurdyroot? I ought to whip up some powder for you and Ron, to get rid of those Gulping Pimplies." Luna called after him dreamily.

While Harry was thoroughly inclined to doubt the existence of such a creature, he didn't have the heart to say no to Luna. But before he could ask where, exactly, to find them (because the last time he did, she gave him a rather ambiguous answer) she had once again mysteriously disappeared.

As Hermione had predicted, in the common room students were near purple in the face from repeated practicing of nonverbal spells, which they were now required in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts (lucky for Harry the skill came easy for him). Much to Ron's dismay, as he had anticipated a blissful free period of relaxation.

Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully, as they sat in the common room debating Hagrid's absence.

"We should really go and explain." She reminded the two boys, who were more interested grabbing their books off the table and stuffing them hurriedly into their bags.

A minute later found Hermione still without an answer, and she frowned.

"Hello! I said—

"We heard you, Hermione." Ron groaned exasperatedly. "But we've got Quidditch tryouts in twenty minutes! And we're supposed to be practicing that stupid Aguamenti charm, no thanks to Flitwick! And explain what? How much we hated that stupid subject?"

Hermione looked scandalized. "We didn't hate it!"

"Speak for yourself!" Ron grumbled. "I still haven't forgotten about those skrewts from last year!"

"I hate not talking to Hagrid." Hermione bemoaned, looking upset.

"We'll go down after Quidditch." Harry assured her. "But trials might take the whole period, seeing how many people tried out..." He trailed off, looking a bit ill with the nervousness when just thinking about confronting the first hurdle of his captaincy. "I dunno when it got so popular."

"Oh come on Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not Quidditch that's popular, its you! You've never been more interesting and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."

Ron near gagged on his own spit at her words, and Hermione spared him a look of disdain before turning back to Harry.

"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, and the whole Wizarding world had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him all along." She cast the brunette a sidelong glance, and added. "And anyways, haven't you noticed the gaggle of girls following you around lately?"

Harry blushed a bit, and looked away. Quite honestly, he hadn't. In actuality, he hadn't thought of girls at all, which worried him a bit. Why wasn't he? Every other day Ron was going on about that one girls rack or how big Hermione's ass had gotten in the last year, and most of the time he thought it a bit vile.

Harry thought the beats of silence an opportune moment to twist out of the crowded common room, Ron following suit and Hermione huffing before finally doing the same.

When they reached the outskirts of the Quidditch pitch five minutes later, they passed Lavender Brown and Parvarti Patil. He wasn't surprised to see the two of them chatting away, but he was surprised to note when Parvarti nudged Lavender the moment Harry and Ron leveled with them. Lavender flashed Ron a large smile, and Ron blinked before returning it uncertainly. Harry resisted the urge to laugh.

Hermione had accompanied them down to the pitch, much to Harry's surprise and Ron's blushing content.

She looked cold and distant, and her eyes would sweep around as she looked to be scanning the crowd in the stands.

As Harry had thought, the trials took much longer then they had thee years before. It may have something to do with the substantial turn up, from nervous first years who clutched dreadfully old school brooms to tall brawny seventh years. One stood from all the rest, a wiry boy Harry seemed to recognize from somewhere.

He confidently walked out of the anxious crowd, and stuck his hand out. "We met on the train, in Sluggy's compartment," He boasted. "Cormac McLaggen, keeper."

Harry took the offered hand. "You didn't try out last year, did you?"

"In the hospital when the tryouts took place," He answered with a bit of a swagger. "Ate a pound of doxy eggs for a bet."

Harry didn't know whether to choke or laugh at the inane stupidity of his actions. "Right...well if you'll just wait over there..." He pointed in the vague direction of the others, close to where Hermione was sitting. A brief look of annoyance crossed the other boys face and Harry resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. Did the guy honestly think he'd get preferential treatment because they were both Slughorn's favorites?

Harry decided to begin with a basic test Oliver had performed his first year, which included splitting into teams of ten and flying around the pitch. It turned out to work splendidly, as the first ten was made up solely of first years who seemed to have never flew before. Only one first year managed to remain airborne for a slightly long duration, and was so surprised he crashed into one of the goal posts. The second was compromised of flashy, moronic girls who only giggled and sent him sultry looks, clutching each other and erupting into laughter. None of them seemed to levitate even a foot off the ground.

The third group didn't do so well either, and by the fourth Harry wanted to groan when he noticed they were all a bunch of Hufflepuffs.

"If there's anyone else who's not from Gryffindor," He roared irritatedly. "leave now please!"

The majority of Hufflepuffs and a couple little Ravenclaws dejectedly stumbled off the pitch.

After sorting most of the team in place, he finally turned towards the keepers.

Ron seemed to be doing a stellar job of looking completely stricken on his broom. Harry knew Ron always had a problem with nerves, and the crowd certainly wasn't helping it any. Cormac McLaggen swaggered onto the pitch behind Ron, waving to the crowd like some sort of Earthly deity had showered onto the world.

None of the first five applicants saved more than two goals apiece. And to Harry's great disappointment, Cormac saved four out of five. On the last one, however he shot off in the completely wrong direction, to which the crowd roared with laughter and booed until McLaggen returned to the ground grinding his teeth. By the time it was Ron's turn he had moved from his delicate shade of green to looking like he was ready to pass out, and the crowd flared to life with bouts of cheers and a loud, "Good Luck!" Harry expected to see Hermione, but it was instead Lavender Brown. He would have liked to hid his face in his hands like she did a moment later, but it probably wouldn't look professional for a captain to do so.

Delightedly, Ron ended up saving all five penalties in a row, making McLaggen grow red in the face.

"I was so sure I'd miss that last one," Ron chattered happily, as his shaking legs and nervous stutter finally abated into happiness. "Tricky shot, that one, it had a bit of a spin on it. Course I had it all covered—

"It was beautiful. You were great." Hermione rolled her eyes, looking bemused.

For a moment, Harry's mind wandered to what Alice would say if she was here. He bet she'd be utterly ecstatic to see a broom, and he debated taking his firebolt to Forks and letting her have a ride. He could imagine the look of delight on her face as she soared into the sky, and he was sure it'd be a bit like his own when he first flew. Albeit, Malfoy sourly ruined that experience by taking Neville's Remembrall.

"—you see him? It was almost like he was confounded—"

Harry had no doubt that Ron was prattling on about McLaggen, but what surprised him was the slight shade of pink tinging Hermione's cheeks as Ron went on about how it looked like McLaggen had been hit by a Confoundus charm. Harry found that her expression to be rather enlightening, and he gave Hermione a wicked grin, to which she blushed deeper. Ron paid no attention, describing the rest of his saves in loving detail.

Before he returned to Forks, Hermione had shouted at him to remember to early on Saturday for the Hogsmeade weekend.

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a similar fashion. Hogwarts curriculum—standing to Hermione's ever so insightful prediction—only worsened considerably as the days dwindled close to winter. The sky was a tender blue, as he looked watched his breath turn to whorls of smoke like twisting hands reaching into the delphinium blue depths in the brisk air, like it was in the days foretelling snow.

While originally he was overjoyed on his beginning trek into Hogsmeade (only slightly dampened by Filch's overbearing presence and equally overbearing voice) and had bought a large amount of blood pops for his newfound vampire friend, Katie Bell had been severely poisoned and whisked immediately to Saint Mungo's after touching a cursed pendant. Leaving him short one friend and a Chaser. He had slotted Dean Thomas for the roll, much to Seamus' anger.

He grabbed a handful of the blood pops and walked into the cold air.

Alice studied him as he approached the forest edge where she waited. Her visions—or dreams, as she know called them, due to their vague and ambiguous images—were filled with a startling green she identified as _avada kadevra _green. A shade she had never quite seen before but greatly resembled the color of the sea after a storm, shining like mirrors. His school clothes were the oddest fashion statement she'd ever seen, and while she was inclined to say red and gold clashed, he seemed to make it look rather fetching, with his tie loose around his neck and buttons popped at the front. Much to her delight, he wore the jeans she bought for him yesterday. Alice had yet to get him to change out of his worn sneakers, but, she supposed, there was always more time to spin her new fashion project.

Harry watched her worriedly when he noticed her ominously delighted expression. "What are you thinking about?"

She only giggled, a very musical sound, and gave a fancy twirl "Nothing, nothing." Her skirt plumed as she turned around, and her boots were soundless as she seemed to bypass small twigs and papery leaves with a second nature.

Meanwhile, Harry couldn't seem to avoid the noisy objects. "How do you do that?" He asked her grumpily.

She made a small sound that could be interpreted as both "oh, you just pick it up," and, "why would I tell you?" in unison.

"Oh! By the way," Harry reached into his pocket, and pulled up a crimson lollipop. "Care to try?"

She beamed at him, and took the offered treat. Even though she couldn't fully appreciate the gesutre as humans did, she enjoyed the thought all the same. Harry thought it strange that the candy store had them wrapped in little pink bows and clear translucent plastic, as if to make them look enticing. In reality, he found the taste near vulgar and he could never get past the fact it had the distinct taste of blood. And apparently, from the way Alice seemed to taste it with the utmost care, not animal blood either.

"What does it taste like?" He asked curiously, never getting past its metallic undertones.

"Like heaven." She smiled contentedly. "Or, human blood. But to us vegetarians; heaven."

He only grinned.

"Where did you get these?" She cried, as she took another lick.

"There's this village near my school called Hogsmeade. They've got a lot of cool shops and one of them is this candy store that sells all kinds of candy. I tried a blood pop before but I thought it tasted nasty. Not every candy tastes good in the magical world—like Berty Bott's every flavored beans, you can get booger flavor and vomit in those—so I figured it was one of those bad tasting things. But then I realized they were probably made to combat vampire hunger."

From the way Alice seemed to savor it, they obviously had the intended effect.

"But I think its only supposed to be a snack, and not something you could live off of." He added quietly.

He produced more from his pocket, which Alice took gingerly. "I'll give them to Jasper! This'll help him so much! You have no idea how thankful he'll be!" She grinned lopsidedly from around the candy in her mouth.

Harry only nodded, as he surveyed the forest floor. Luna had pleaded with him, in that strange distant way, to find some Gurdyroot for her to make into powder. Quite honestly he didn't have the slightest idea what she was talking about, but it made him feel bad when he saw her crestfallen face, as if he had ripped a cornerstone of her world away. They were supposed to look like onions, very green and smelling sweet enough to attract a swarm of insects, Alice noted how he bent over to watch the passing shrubbery near his feet, and followed suit.

Very soon she got fed up with simply watching tree roots go by and asked him, "So what are we looking for?"

"Gurdyroot." He answered quickly, as he plucked a strand of thick, green grass out of the soil.

Alice only nodded. Harry had explained to her already that the onion-like vegetable she had a vision of was actually Gurdyroot, a magical plant that apparently could be ground into powder and used to get rid of a magical creature called "gulping pimplies". When asked what they were, Harry could only sheepishly reply that a friend of his claimed he had quite a handful buzzing around him, and that it would help his studies if he cured his ailment. At a loss for words and feeling very unsure as to what he was saying, Alice only pretended she knew the slightest bit of what he was talking about and continued onwards.

She enjoyed how Harry talked to her like one of his magical friends. Even though technically Alice was a magical creature and belonged to that world as much as Harry did, she had only truly understood the pertinence of that fact and how it affected her recently. And the world. Although at times, she hadn't the slightest idea what he was rambling on about.

Like now, as he spoke to her about a charm his professor Flitwick wanted to teach him.

"It's non-verbal, which I actually don't have much of a problem with." He was ranting, as he dug into the mountain's soil. "Like in my DADA class, I can always cast spells nonverbally, and even wandlessly sometimes. 'Course, my professor Snape doesn't like me very much for it. But it's the charm that I don't understand. It conjures water out from thin air, and anything that is made from nothing is hard to do. I suppose it's a lot like what muggles think of when they think of magic—

Alice would usually have tried to understand what he was saying when he used terms like "charms" and "muggles" and "wandlessly". She was sure he'd told her before, but when he talked to fast sometimes she wasn't sure as to what he was talking about.

However, at the moment her ears were listening to a slight rustle carried from the breeze.

Whatever it was, it was fast, and she was almost certain that it was Edward.

"Uh, Harry." She interrupted him, and pulled the lollipop out of her mouth. "My brother Edward is coming. He must have smelled me; and you too, I'd think. So don't be too startled when—

Before she could finish her sentence a blur shot forward as Edward skidded to a stop in front of them, a flashy display of both dust and vampire capabilities (whether unknowingly or not)

Surprisingly, Harry didn't do anything but look up from his work. Humans were often scared by fast movement that couldn't be caught with their eye, or anything that caught them off guard. But Harry didn't seem too worried in the slightest.

Harry blinked at him, a vapid coruscate of bottle green fluttering beneath his lashes, and Edward hitched his breath and stopped moving.

"Oh, Edward!" Alice crooned, and skittered over to dote on her elder brother. "Your nose! What on Earth did you do? Run into a rock?"

The male vampire watched his sister—who had her lithe hands on his cheeks and was inspecting his broken nose—startled, before he turned back to the human kneeling on the ground.

"Alice..." He began slowly. "Who is...?"

Alice trailed her eyes to follow his gaze, took notice of Harry, and then grinned. "He's my new friend, Harry. Don't worry, he already knows about us."

Her lashes lowered and her voice took an a whimsical dreamy quality as she began; "You see, Edward, he's—

"I'm Harry Potter." Harry interrupted her.

He eyed him cautiously before answering; "I'm Edward. Edward Cullen."

Well, she was going to say he was a wizard, but his name worked too she supposed. Alice looked miffed for a moment, but it didn't seem that Harry had cut her off consciously.

"That looks painful." Harry remarked to the vampire, who only shrugged and looked away.

Edward avoided eye contact, those big emerald eyes watching him closely and he didn't know what he felt. "It's not too bad. I heal fast anyways."

Harry pulled out a long stick from his pocket, and Edward reproachfully leaned away from him. Edward wasn't entirely sure why humans would need to carry sticks in their pockets, but truthfully this was the weirdest human he had ever met yet. He hadn't jumped when Edward had abruptly stopped in front of him and Alice, nor did he seem entirely too interested in the fact they both were vampires. In fact, it seemed he found the soil a bit more entertaining then their more...special qualities.

But this was by far the strangest he'd done yet.

Harry waved the wand in front of Edward for a moment, and the blonde vampire worriedly took a step back.

"Episky!"

He shouted, just like Luna had done to him. Edward gave a yelp and touched his nose, which now, miraculously, was fixed.

The vampire stared at him in wonder.

"How did you....?"

"Like I was about to say." Alice cut him off irately. "Harry is a wizard. That's how he knows about us."

"I see." Edward stared in something akin to skepticism and wonder mixed together. "And how did you meet him?"

"I moved." Harry answered for himself. "But I go to school in Scotland. We met at a grocery store."

Edward blinked at the both of them in disbelief. Putting it that way made the entirety of the predicament sound rather mundane.

"A gas station, actually." Alice piped in cheerfully, before pulling another claret red lollipop from the pocket in her puffy skirt. "Are you still having trouble with the hunger?" She asked him concernedly.

"Not at the moment, but that could change when..." Edward trailed off noncommittally and tactfully left out the part that included his singer, who happened to sit next to him in one of his classes (which he couldn't switch out of, much to his transgression) and wasn't leaving any moment soon.

Usually when talking of Edward's singer, Alice and the rest of her family became very quiet and worried for their sibling. The whole mess was doing terrible things to Edward's already depressing personality, and was keeping him away from the house even more so then usual. Hence, his seriously extended stay in the mountains to escape the scent of his singer.

But this time, Alice knew of a solution.

She whipped him out a blood pop, and unwrapped it as he sputtered confusedly at her, and then popped it into his mouth before he could protest.

"What are these?" He blinked in surprise.

"Blood pops!" She replied cheerfully. "They taste just like human blood, don't they? Harry got them...from some magical town called...uh..."

"Hogsmeade." Harry helpfully finished for her.

Edward had taken to curiously staring at him, and Harry fidgeted slightly. Alice's bubbly personality was an easy contrast to his laid back and quiet personality, but he couldn't quite understand Edward...it felt almost strange to be around him. The golden eyes were watching him unwaveringly, and he let his eyes drop to the floor. Luckily, he still had his Gurdyroot, to which he was sure Luna would be delighted to see.

"You really are a wizard." Edward breathed with some sort of realization.

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "It's not as great as it looks, really."

"Nonsense!" Alice cried. "I wish _I _could do magic. While seeing the future is all fun….gosh if I could transform plates into cats…" She trailed off with a sigh, and Edward blinked.

"Cats into plates?"

"Transfiguration." Harry supplied. "Its…well….its when you transform one thing into another. It's a pretty easy class, actually."

"Oh Edward, it's so fantastic!" Alice crooned pleasantly. "Just like in the movies! It's like real magic!"

Edward didn't seem to fully believe what Alice or Harry was saying, and took the whole ordeal with a grain of salt. While Harry obviously couldn't be lying—as he had just fixed his nose with the use of a magical stick—it was hard to wrap his mind around. He probably should have seen this coming, if there were vampires, why not wizards as well? Or goblins?

"Have you ever met a goblin?" Edward asked suddenly.

"Edward!" Alice rolled her eyes. "The Magical World isn't _all _like the fantasy books—

"Yes actually." Harry answered truthfully, and Alice gasped in delight. "They run the only Magical Bank, called Gringotts. They're pretty ruthless and not too much fun to be around, but they're great accountants."

Edward tilted his head. Goblins were real, and ran a bank?

"You absolutely must take me to the magical world sometime!" Alice clapped her hands. "I'd love to go to that Diagonal place!"

"Diagon Alley." Harry quipped for her helpfully, and she nodded.

Silence reigned for a few moments, and as the Gurdyroot began to swing ominously in his hand, he decided it was high time to cut this short.

"Well, I'm going to go run this back to the house before it starts shriveling and begins to eat me," He told them conversationally, and Alice gaped a bit, while Edward's brows shot up in surprise.

"Eat you?" He asked forlornly.

Harry shrugged. "They do that sometimes."

As the young boy turned around, Edward watched the human go, feeling pleasantly full (much more then he did from the animal blood) with the blood pop in his mouth. What a strange, elusive character. And once more, just like the old man and odd woman with purple hair, his mind was obscured and hazy. He turned to Alice, whom he hoped would have some sort of explanation for him, to see her giggling ridiculously and hunched in a ball near the floor.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked quizzically.

Alice only chortled deeper into her bouts of laughter. "Oh…just…saw something…really funny…"

He didn't bother to ask after that.

The breakfast at Hogwarts was indefinitely greater then the lousy microwave food Harry had lived off of for the past few days, and was a pleasant reprieve from microwavable sausage that was no doubt filled with less-then-sausage-ingredients, and carton eggs. Alas, if only he could enslave one of those house-elves (as if a certain one wasn't already obsessed with him) without unleashing the ire of Hermione along with a seventy minute presentation on house elf rights.

Said girl was yelping in exuberance that would have made him peer incredulously at her and ask if she was enjoying her orgasm, but he had already caught sight of the package in her hand that was no doubt the cause of such high-decibel screaming.

"Oh god…too early…" Ron groaned urbanely from his spot opposite of Hermione, looking a bit like a dead fish with his lips parted for ragged air and his eyes squinted shut.

Harry leaned over to get a good look at the cover, which included too young girls and the words, "Siamese Dreams". While he had no idea what that could possibly mean, he knew enough of the muggle world to have seen Dudley's mass of CDs in his room and heard the seven-minute screaming and roar-like lyrics to know that he didn't enjoy muggle music.

"What is that, anyways?" Ron croaked, and Hermione swiveled to peer at him, looking absolutely delighted.

"Smashing Pumpkins!" She yelped. "My parents have finally let me buy it! Or rather, they bought it."

"Smashing Pumpkins?" Harry echoed with only half-interest, pushing his eggs listlessly on his plate.

"Sounds like something Fred and George would do." Ron snorted from his spot with his face in the wood of the table. "Go out in the yard and make a fuss and get themselves all orange until mom yells herself red in the face for ruining her garden."

"Not literally smashing pumpkins." Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a band, a muggle band."

"Ew." Said Ron.

"Ew." Harry mimicked.

Hermione slapped both of them upside the head, before pointing and accusing finger to Ron, who blinked. "You have never even heard muggle music! So don't go saying you don't like it if you've never tried it!"

And then she turned the finger to Harry. "And you! I doubt you've heard of them either!"

Harry wedged a finger into his ear. "If it's anything like my cousin Dudley's, I could probably do without it. What's the point in listening to someone scream themselves hoarse?"

"That's metal, Harry." Hermione chastised. "This is…well, I suppose its just rock, but some might argue its grunge."

And with a look to their blank faces, she added, "I take it neither of you know what that is."

Harry only shrugged, he'd never paid much attention to music before. The only band he'd ever seen live was the Weird Sisters at the Yule Ball, and while it was entertaining, warranted nothing of the up and down motions and loud squeals that erupted from Hermione. And Dudley's loud clash of screams and more screams only hurt his ears, and turned him away from music in general.

Ron, he doubted cared enough past Quidditch to have a decent opinion on the subject.

"You've never, ever, heard of Smashing Pumpkins?" She asked finally.

He shook his head slowly, waiting for some sort of reaction from her.

"Oh Harry, Harry…" With that, she placed the CD in his hands, and he stared back at the two girls on the front with surprise, before looking at her.

"What—?"

"While I wouldn't like to part with it," Hermione pursed her lips. "I can't just let you carry on with your music-less life. Honestly Harry, you've never heard a _band _before? Ever?"

Again, he shrugged noncommittally. "No, never. Just what my cousin played or the classical music my Aunt and Uncle listen to."

"Then you absolutely must take it!" She insisted, and shoved the CD into his unmoving hands. "You can give it back once you've listened to it."

"Alright…" He looked at her confusedly, before tucking it into his robes. "If you say so."

Later that day, Harry's spirits had been incredibly dowsed in burning fire and reduced to ashes.

Not only did they have a scrimmage against Slytherin in four days, Harry hadn't gotten on a broom since tryouts, and had let Ron be sub-captain for all the practices they've had so far. The team was more then understanding, going out of their way with sympathy for Harry's most unusual living arrangement. Dumbledore, however, was anything but understanding. In no uncertain terms he stressed Harry's safety as an utmost priority, and Harry must return to Forks immediately after school, no practices allowed. Not only was Harry enraged at such a moronic prospect, he also couldn't do much about it

But if there was one thing that Dumbledore should stop underestimating, it was Harry's ability to bend the rules in his favor.

Ron and Harry had skipped their last period class of Herbology, deciding that his Flutterby plant wasn't going anywhere.

The two traveled down the winding path from Hogwarts castle to the Quidditch pitch, under the cover of a fast-moving darkness. The only light came from the small burning embers of the sun that danced across the horizon and lit the sky in bright oranges, but kept the ground shadowy and dark. Harry had opted to take the Invisibility Cloak, before deciding it wasn't all that needed. And at any rate, Harry and Ron had grown to the point the cloak no longer could cover both of them without showing half of their legs, and would have been a moot point by now.

He looked at Hagrid's hut longingly as they passed, wondering how the half-giant was doing. While taking care of his half-brother/full giant wasn't entirely much fun, Hagrid was certainly one of his dear friends, and he missed being able to meander into his hut for a cup of tea and a couple some shed tears over the many losses of strange creatures Hagrid had over these past years.

Ron quickly tucked behind the Quidditch shed, and Harry followed suit.

"Alohamora," He whispered quietly, and the lock clicked open.

The Gryffindor shed wasn't much of a sight to see, but Harry immediately found his Firebolt among the less-than-stellar other brooms.

"So now it's just a matter of getting this back." Ron mumbled.

Harry rolled his eyes, before shrinking the broom to the size of his pocket, and placing it gingerly there.

"Well that was easy, wasn't it?" Harry laughed, as he took notice of Ron's surprised features.

Ron only muttered crossly.

When Harry arrived back at his house, he immediately placed down the heaps of homework he had been assigned. His Flutterby plant was probably still shaking away at the Hogwarts greenhouse, no doubt being taken excellent care of by Neville. Cheshire was still sprawled in the exact position Harry had left him in, and his potion was bubbling ominously on his kitchen counter, wherein his Euphoria potion was turning a strange mucky looking swamp green. He double-checked the results with the Half-Blood Prince's book, to find that this seemed to be all well and good.

He dropped all of his books unceremoniously on the long living room table by the floo, and his charmed birds were still fluttering around in a constant circle over his living room. Also, his failed Herbology attempt was currently growing up his walls in vines that sprouted teacups,

Currently Forks Washington was experiencing light winds and a cloudy sky, and Harry had pulled over a hooded sweatshirt that Fred and George had gave him in their freebee box.

Harry scanned his backyard, which was miraculously huge with a lawn that he had managed to find a spell for to keep the grass short and manicured.

Satisfied, he brought his broom and a snitch out.

He tossed the snitch into the air and closed his eyes and counted to ten.

He snapped them open, and with a wild smile, shot into the cloudy sky.

* * *

--(Note: Hogwarts time-3:40 PM Forks time-7:50 AM

"Edward…" Alice hissed to her brother, as he walked in the opposite direction of his first period class.

Ignoring his sister's call for him to comeback, he popped one of those life-saving blood pops in his mouth and closed his eyes.

Her smell…it was everywhere.

God, did she rub herself over the lockers or something?

The girl in question was currently leaning against one of the walls with her friend Jessica, watching the beautiful boy in front of him as he paced down the hallways. Alice, his equally beautiful sister, pattered over to him, her feather-light steps gave her the look of a dancer on stage. Edward—whose name she had found out already as the teacher called it on attendance every day only to find him mysteriously gone—didn't seem to take any notion of his sister following him worriedly.

Bella peered down the corridor as Edward and his sister meshed into the crowded hallways, before shaking her head. Why did she care, anyway?

"What, Alice?" He snapped uncharacteristically quickly, as he pushed into the parking lot and the brisk fall air.

She watched him with concern. "Where are you going? You're not going to—

"I'll come back." He interrupted her, reading her train of thought. "I just…my first class _reeks _of her, and I don't want to put up with it."

Understanding, Alice only nodded with a sigh.

Why were things always so difficult for Edward?

"Be safe." She whispered, not knowing what else to say. Edward only rolled his eyes and his lips turned into a slight smile.

He drove down the road aimlessly, not really caring where he went as long as he lengthened the distance between him and Bella Swan. Would anyone really care if one of the Cullens became a high school drop out and worked at a diner on minimum wage? That didn't look too out of the ordinary…did it? By the time he turned into one of the dark paths lined in a canopy of trees he was seriously contemplating handing an application into one of the local eateries, or even a gas station. No one bothered gas station workers, even less a human who smelt much too good to actually be human. Stupid singers…

He was just about to plan a way to eat her without upsetting both the town and his family, when something whizzed in front of him.

He stopped the car abruptly, thinking he had hit a bird, and stepped out.

Nothing was there, just the crisp air and the smell of candy-sweet apples that were blossoming into the air like roses in spring.

And then, a small flash of gold—much too quick for the normal human eye—made him turn to the side.

Again, nothing, just the faint buzz of lacewings in the air that only his sensitive ears could pick up. Perhaps a fly? But flies weren't golden, nor did they move so fast.

There.

He turned around quickly, and a small golden ball fluttered in place above him, dancing about around his nose. He blinked in surprise. What on Earth was that?

It twisted a bit, before flying back until he almost lost it against the background of tree trunks and shrubbery. It was a fast little thing, and he didn't have the slightest idea as to what it was. Perhaps an undiscovered animal or bug of some sort?

He reached out a hand to touch it, and felt the smooth and cold surface. Metal.

Definitely not a bug.

It distanced itself from him, and he was about to reach out to grab it again when something came barreling out of the forestry.

In a whirlwind of fall-sprayed leaves, a figure on a broom shot out of the canopy and hurdled into the small golden object, somersaulting in the air and grabbing the snitch, before landing properly on the broom. Edward gasped, but couldn't see much past the flurry of leaves that the trees spit, tossed in the wind in loose circles as they fluttered to the ground.

Then, the figure spotted the car, and his eyes widened. A glossy, restless movement in their wide grave sockets, bottle-green and sparkling emerald.

Then, he turned to Edward, before sighing in relief.

"Oh. It's just you." He smiled in relief. Edward had never seen anyone too relieved to see a vampire. "Thank Merlin."

Edward didn't know why Harry would thank an old man from a fairytale book and a Disney movie, but he didn't comment on it either.

"I thought you were a muggle!" Harry said breathlessly. And his voice was smooth and soft, chimerical in its caramel-like quality.

"Muggle?" He managed to ask, covering up his daze.

Harry nodded. "It's the magical word for non-magic folk."

"Strange word." Edward quipped.

"Yeah." The snitch flew out of Harry's hands unexpectedly, and began to flutter around Edward again. Harry chuckled. "I think it likes you. You mind walking back home with me? I doubt I could catch it again…with all the mountains and muggles around these parts." And then, reproachfully, "That is, if you don't have to be anywhere or anything like that…

"Oh no, not at all." Edward protested, inwardly relieved. He'd have something to do and hopefully could convince Alice that this was a better option then going crazy in school.

* * *

_horrible place to end it. review and I'll update faster :3_


	4. It's not the Same

_tweaked on may 22, 2010_

_

* * *

_

_l--l_

_it's not the same_

_l--l_

_x. yppah_

He followed Harry back to his house, which was actually quite a short distance away from the road, so he simply left his car there. On the way, Harry chatted about many magical things, mostly Quidditch, as Edward had asked what the small golden ball was. "A snitch," Harry said, to which he asked what the importance of such a small ball was. Harry had continued explaining that a Quidditch pitch was massive, and completely took place in the air. The snitch was allowed anywhere in the vicinity, but it was so small and fast, that if the Seeker could actually get it then his team won immediately. Or at least, the snitch was worth such a colossal amount that it was essentially winning.

"Sounds like a fun game." Edward replied to his story. "I think my brother Emmett would be dying to be one of those Chasers."

Harry grinned; Alice had told him about Emmett. "We should all play sometime, it'd be lots fun."

Edward blinked in surprise. "Non-magical people can play Quidditch?"

Harry studied him with a bit of mirth in his eyes. "Well no…but you all are magical, so I don't see the problem."

Edward shook his head. "But, we can't do spells like you can, like fixing peoples noses with a stick—

"Wand." Harry corrected.

"Or turning plates into cats." He ended, as they rounded the house and walked up the front porch.

Harry rolled his eyes. "There are a lot of magical creatures who have their own separate kind of magic—what you just listed is what wizards do. For example, you and your clan have magic, that's how you can read minds, and Alice can see the future."

Edward blinked. How did he know that he could read minds?

Instead he smiled at the smaller boy. "You must be very good then, to be able to catch the snitch."

Color rose beneath lowered lashes, but Edward couldn't decipher whether that was due to the crisp cold or the compliment. And, like those other magical folk, his mind was obscured. Loosely, but Edward was still unable to read it.

He was about to ask, when Harry opened the door, and Edward almost reeled back in surprise.

A purple cat yowled as it fled the room, and he watched it prance into the yard chasing a mouse in shock as he noted the purple and maroon stripes and fat tail. Harry had already moved into the living room, calling Edward to come inside. Edward quickly recovered and closed the door, moving into the entrance hallway and took a look at the magical pictures. There was one that was no doubt of Harry, and a redhead and a brunette, who were laughing joyously as their hair turned to outrageous colors. Another was of a beautiful wine-haired woman and a man who looked suspiciously like Harry clasping his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as she laughed and a cloud of birds flew from the fountain behind them.

He followed Harry into the living room, and was even more shocked. Birds were flying in circles near the ceiling, while half of one wall was covered in vines that grew out a variety of teacups and teapots. Books were beginning to restack themselves and fly up to their designated areas on the bookshelf, and in the kitchen where Harry was fiddling with something, bright orange smoke erupted from a bubbling cauldron.

"Magic." Edward breathed. He'd never seen anything like this.

"Sorry for leaving you out there like that." Harry grinned sheepishly, his face smudged with a bit of muddy green and a tattered book in one of his hands. "I thought I blew up my potion or something."

"Your house is pretty amazing." He confessed, as he watched the birds make circles, and almost worked as a fan.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Oh, thank you. It's a bit of a mess though, sorry about that."

Edward shook his head. "It doesn't look messy at all." Truth be told, if he had walked into a house that had a wall covered in vines, he'd have thought the owner needed to tend a little more to his house, but seeing said plant grow teapots and cups made him rethink such a statement.

"Well, tea?" He asked politely, to which Edward nodded, and chuckled to himself. Harry was certainly British.

Harry plucked one of the teapots—it was oddly shaped, fat at the bottom but skinny at the top, and decorated with lace-like flower patterns—from the vines crawling up his wall and two teacups, which made an indignant squeak.

Edward covered his noise of surprise when Harry immediately poured steaming hot tea into both of their cups, and used his wand to levitate two saucers from one of his cupboards.

"I can see why Alice thinks this place is like a movie." He started weakly, as Harry filled his cup.

The other boy—whom Edward was sure was going to laugh at him and berate him for saying something so absolutely childish—only smiled benignly. "I said the same thing when I walked into my first wizarding house too."

"Your first?" Edward tilted his head. "I thought you were born magical."

Harry blinked, before sitting down and pouring himself a cup. "Well yes, but I suppose I should explain all of this. To the wizarding community, there are two kinds of wizards. Both are born with magic, it's just a matter of how they were raised. There's purebloods, who are raised by pureblooded parents who have long and old magical ancestry and are born into a magical household. Then there's muggleborns who, like the name states, are born from muggles but have magic. No one really knows how it happens, but the purebloods consider them inferior and it's the cause of a lot of dispute."

"So you're a muggleborn then?" Edward tilted his head.

"Well no. I'm a half-blood." Harry explained. "My father was a pureblood, but my mother was a muggleborn. But I wasn't raised in the magical world because they both died when I was a baby, and I lived with my Aunt and Uncle."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Edward said softly, frowning.

Harry gave him a slight smile, but made no other comment about the topic.

Edward took the time to study his teacup—appreciating his gesture of civility but not sure how exactly he would go about drinking something that to him tasted a bit like dust—a dusty blue that didn't match the bright orange teapot or the gray one in Harry's hand. The whole house resembled his tea set, mismatched and unorganized but appealing in its splendor.

Harry caught his gaze trailing to the tangled plant engraved into his wall and chuckled.

"That's my latest Herbology project. I'm not entirely sure why I even took the class, a fat load of good it's done for me this year."

Edward grinned. "But it's so convenient to serve tea."

Harry shriveled his nose a bit. "It's only during the first four weeks. Then it stops and the leaves turn orange and it'll start spitting out sweaters."

Edward raised his brows, and without even knowing it, took a sip of his tea. It had come naturally to him; there was something about Harry's mannerisms and overall lack of interest in his vampiric features that made him feel almost human, and he had forgotten that it would taste horrid to him.

While the lack of taste wasn't pleasant, he was mildly enjoying the company. "Sweaters? That's pretty convenient too."

"Oh but they're _dreadful_," Harry reasoned. "Honestly, if you could see them now…my friend Neville grew one of these in our dorm because his Grandma sent him horrendous sweaters for the winter season and he decided to grow some rather then buy some. Of course, we enjoyed the tea, but the sweaters… I'd think they were about eighteen centuries out of fashion."

There was some easy-going about Harry, while still the wizard remained completely elusive. Harry could ramble on and on about insignificant nonsense, but Edward notice he seemed to hedge over the rather important questions. Tricky one, that Harry.

But if there was one thing Edward was grateful for, it would be the lack of intrusion in his head. The calm wave of thoughtlessness was a balm on his frazzled nerves—no doubt so frayed due to Bella's scent completely washed over the entire school.

"So anyway, what brings you to my part of the woods?"

Edward faltered for a good answer.

He wasn't sure if Alice had yet to explain to Harry his current predicament. But Harry seemed pretty well versed in vampire culture, and probably would understand what Bella meant to him. He wasn't sure why he didn't want Harry to get the wrong picture, though. And that was what worried him the most as he began to explain himself.

"Has Alice told you the reason I've been skipping school so much?"

Harry tilted his head curiously. "No, actually. I'm sure it's an interesting story though."

Edward sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Have you ever heard of a singer?"

"It's a vampire term, right? For…" Harry paused in thought. "Hang on, I did a report on vampires…" He trailed off again, and Edward was a bit baffled. He hadn't known he was school-report material. He'd really have to see this Hogwarts Harry spoke of so fondly. "That's a blood condition, right? When someone has blood that is specifically centered towards your preferences…"

"Something like that." Edward shrugged. He'd never really heard it put in such scientific terms before. Perhaps Carlisle had given him an explanation like that some time ago and he'd simply forgotten about it. Most vampires simply explained it as an undecipherable longing, a mixture of emotions that were usually taken at face value and not much farther then that. "It's almost like their blood…sings to you." He ended lamely. Harry's explanation seemed so much more legitimate.

Harry didn't comment, only nodding. "I know what that's like. There's this magical creature called a Veela…they've got this charm that makes you fall all over them. I don't really know how to explain it—

Edward narrowed his eyes quicker then Harry noticed, as behind the explaining wizard a smolder of green erupted from his fireplace. Harry blinked suddenly and peered in a felicitous gesture behind him, bright green eyes the same shade of the tendrils making whorl-like hands of smoke.

"Oh goodness…"

A sharp voice commented, sounding in quite a hurry. Her voice was soft, but not as memorable as Harry's was.

She shifted the parcels in her hands quickly, one hand on her broad witch's hat and the other struggling with a cumbersome amount of books.

Harry rushed out of his chair to help her struggle out of her coat and gather some books. "Geez 'Mione, bring enough?" He asked exasperatedly.

"Mione" Harrumphed irately, gathering herself up like a mother hen gathers up her feathers. "Last time I help you study for midterms. The lot of you, goofing around playing Quidditch and the Gryffindor boys playing some stupid war game with the Fred and George's Decoy Detonators going off in the halls…no one ever thinks to study, and certainly not when _Newts _are only a year away!"

While the young brunette woman ranted along and haphazardly dropped her books onto the cluttered table in the joined sitting room, Edward hadn't the slightest what she was talking about. From Decoy Detonators to Newts, the whole blathering was lost upon the vampire. Harry however, seemed to take it all in stride, nodding as if he had previously given up arguing many years ago and had simply taken to going with what she said. The girl seemed like the type to rant ones ear off, or at least until one conjured a plausible reason to excuse oneself.

And the young wizard seemed to lack one of those.

Then, Edward remembered himself.

Maybe not.

"Excuse me," He stood up quickly, noting the sharp relief in Harry's eyes. "I'm Edward Cullen. Pleased to meet you."

The girl yelped in surprise, and spun around quickly in a flurry of pleated skirt. She giggled nervously at him, and Edward noted he could read her mind quite easily. So perhaps not all magical folk could counter his magic.

"O-Oh," Pink bloomed beneath her lashes. She was attractive, but certainly not as attractive as her friend. "A pleasure. I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger. I go to school with Harry…"

She trailed off with a slightly unsure glance to Harry, wondering if she should include the fact that she was magical too, and should comment on that.

Luckily for her, Edward had the foresight to see what she was unsure about, and took it upon himself to greet her. "He's told me all about your world;" He began with a charming smile. "It's all quite fascinating."

Hermione breathed in relief. "I see."

She held her hand out, and Edward smirked when she jumped at his icy touch.

"Vampire?" She peered at him questioningly. He only nodded.

She clapped her hands in an excited motion, near rolling on her heels. "How intriguing! When were you turned? Were you perhaps involved in the Vampire movement of 1792 when Vampire advocate Caius Vulturi petitioned for full magical vampire rights for non-magical vampires? And if so, what about the turning of the Zraven clan in 1843 when the Kraljica Mati destroyed nearly half of the clan's populace over the Tiper Lezander—

"Oh great," Harry groaned between clenched teeth. "You've got her started on _vampire history_. This'll take hours…"

Truthfully, Edward was astonished about vast her knowledge on his species was. Of course he'd heard of all these events, but it was a tad overwhelming to see a non-vampire prattle on about such relatively uninteresting historical moments with such deep fascination. Harry however, didn't seem the least bit surprised by her outburst. He'd later come to know that Hermione did this with most things, especially when meeting someone who shared the passion. When _that _happened, it was bad.

"Hermione!" Harry sputtered quickly. "You see, uh, Edward has school! He had the morning off, but seeing as though its almost…ten-thirty…he'll have to be back by now." Harry turned to face him with an outright pleading look. "Right?"

Edward nodded, before turning back to the girl with an apologetic twist on his lips. "He's right. I've got to get back now," Luckily, Biology was over and perhaps he'd be able to avoid Isabella for the rest of the day. "But it was wonderful to meet you. Perhaps we can debate vampire history another time?"

"I'd love that!" There was a glint in her eyes sparkling so brightly Edward didn't bother with her mind; it'd be a moot point.

Edward wondered how Harry dealt with her for such long periods of time. The vampire assumed that the two were very close friends, seeing as though she had somehow managed to find him all the way from Britain and tumbled out of a fireplace. Edward was fairly sure Harry had already explained how she managed to go from point A to point B via a fireplace, but he'd already forgotten.

Poor Harry, he'd have to deal with her for the rest of the day too…

"Harry, would you care to join me?" Edward asked suddenly.

The wizard looked up at him, and Edward was struck by their emerald tones like a wave of dizziness. But the haze clouded when the boy's face split into a relieved smile.

"Harry," Hermione tutted as she sat herself on his plush couch. "Please don't forget that we're studying for potions today, which you're outright _abysmal _at."

Harry shrugged her off easily. "I'll be back soon." He promised half heartedly, already tumbling out of the door.

Edward near tripped on the bright maroon striped cat, which mewed and twisted around his legs as he opened to door, sprinting into the house.

"I thought I'd have to deal with her for another hour or so." Harry laughed, and it was such a euphonious sound that Edward could hear it pleasantly ringing long after Harry had done it.

Edward smirked as he fished his keys out of his pocket. There were many things he could say on the matter, but he opted for a polite, "She seems nice."

"She is," Harry agreed, as he slid into the passenger seat. "But she can be a bit, overwhelming at times. You get used to it after a while."

Edward only nodded, not knowing what else to say.

He wondered what other friends Harry had. Other magical friends. What a world it must be; Edward had only caught a slight glimpse of it yet he reeled in the after shock. It was nothing like the 'muggle' world, with its plants that grew teacups and sweaters, purple striped cats and fans made from hundreds of moving birds.

The sky was just past gloaming, peachy in its crisp edges but already turning into a tender clear blue just behind the wisps of ashen clouds.

Talking to Harry, he found, was much easier then he'd ever thought talking to someone could be. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Edward didn't know what Harry was going to say, and usually he was downright surprised by the boy's comments. There was something to be said about the inability to read minds just as much as there was for those who could. It made conversation unnaturally pleasant, and it had been a while since he had been so interested in what someone else had to say. Aside from his family, but even then, he could usually rifle through their minds and skip the notion of talking in general. With Harry, it reminded him of being human.

The way Harry could easily maunder about any subject made him so easy to talk to, and Edward found himself telling Harry about almost anything he could think of.

"She's awful." He was saying, even though he knew it was only half true. "I mean, I don't really even know her. But it's a nightmare to have to deal with her scent _everywhere_. I feel like I can't control myself." He elaborated, on the subject of Bella.

Harry nodded helplessly, an unsettled look spreading across his face. "The blood pops don't work?"

Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair as he hit one hundred six. Harry didn't seem to mind. "They do, but not nearly enough as I would like."

"What about your family?"

"Whenever they can, but its hard." Edward didn't bother to keep his eyes on the road, staring into the verdant color of his eyes, bright and specked with blue, a spray of soft freckles just beneath his dark lashes and just beneath the surface, so slight that only his superior eyes could see them. The windows were down, and Harry leaned against the seat, with windy hair and cloudy eyes. "Its mainly lunch and Biology that are the worst. And because of testing none of my siblings have my lunch shift."

Harry pursed his lips, incarnadine in color and pulsing with blood beneath the flesh.

"When's your lunch?"

Harry's house was far, even at his current speed it was nearly eleven.

"It'll be my shift by the time we reach school." He surmised with a sigh. At least he'd be able to eat his blood pop and hopefully not draw attention to the fact he gagged every time he swallowed a bite of food.

Harry hummed in thought, eyes trailing the line of canopy as they near flew past it. The telephone wires crossed pas the sky in dark, trembling lines.

He whipped his head around quickly. "Do you think anyone would notice if I joined your school for a day?"

Edward blinked in surprise. Surprise, but happiness. "I doubt it. Teachers don't really keep track of students at lunch."

The wizard grinned. "Why don't I go to lunch with you? That way you don't have to sit alone and you'll have someone to talk to!"

Edward chuckled breathlessly. What a simple, easy solution. He almost wanted to ram his head into the steering wheel for not thinking of it sooner. Of course, he wouldn't mind having Harry's company for another hour or so. The boy was so charismatic and so different to the rest of the disenchanting world filled with people who simply didn't understand him. Harry though…Harry was part of his _world_. A world he had only known bare bits of until now, but still felt wholly a part of.

And there was something to be said of the way his dead heart fluttered when those sparkling eyes turned to him.

Edward pulled into the parking lot one handedly, the other digging into his bag in the back seat for a blood pop. The moment he opened the door he had fisted one out and clawed it out of the wrapping, stuffing it in his mouth before the door shut. Harry only watched him, amused.

"A bit too soon?" He asked with mirth.

Edward shook his head, annoyed, as he pulled his bag out of the back seat.

"She's all over the place," And, with a docile sniff and a nudge of his head. "Especially that truck."

The truck in question was beat up and odd to look at after riding in Edward's sleek one. And while Harry knew nothing about cars except they were judged as not only a transportation device but as a status symbol, could tell the difference. He also noticed how Edward near stiffened just being in close proximity of it.

As they plodded on to the tenebrous building in the distance, he wondered what this Bella looked like.

She obviously had such a strong (but almost negative) hold on Edward.

The vampire he was musing about pushed the doors opened and lead Harry down a string of hallways. The floors were tiled in a pasty white, and the walls were lined in small shelf-like metal boxes with doors, painted in an array of colors that didn't mix well. Edward told him they were lockers, and the colors were the school colors. They were clashing, and Harry wished for the smooth tones of red and gold, and even green and silver. The walls had long banners posted over them with sports that Harry had heard of vaguely from Dudley, and were hand painted mostly and didn't change colors and pictures like the ones at Hogwarts did.

Edward turned another sharp corner and Harry was met with near a hundred people all sitting in a large cafeteria, chattering loudly and obnoxiously.

They passed the lunch serving area, and Harry was glad that he had eaten lunch before hand.

The wizard was too busy blanching at the slop of food that seemed almost sentient to notice the hush that misted over the room.

Perhaps it was the way Edward casually walked into the room with someone who was unknown and not a sibling, hands in his pockets and a lollipop in his mouth. Or maybe it was Harry, who seemed to equally catch the attention of the female populace with his skewed dark hair and sparkling eyes, wearing the jeans Alice bought him and his beat up trainers, along with some hoodie with crass words he'd found on his floor.

"You eat that?" Harry gaped in horror, as an impassive lunch lady slopped another dose onto a foam-like tray.

Edward sent the food a disgusted look, and then a pointed one to Harry. "Vampire?"

The boy shrugged helplessly. "My essay didn't cover the topic of nutritional diet of vampires. I suppose it was pretty self explanatory."

Edward snorted as he pulled one of the metal chairs from underneath a small circular table in the corner of the room, near the windows. "Obviously not, if you couldn't figure it out."

Harry crossed his arms petulantly.

He didn't say anything else on the topic, instead changing it to demeaning, inconsequential things. He noticed that Edward seemed to enjoy hearing the magical world he was so accustomed to, and was explaining the Weasley twin's canary cream and how a girl named Pansy Parkinson had eaten it. At the moment he was trying to get around to explaining _why _it was ten times funnier when Pansy ate it then anyone else without getting too in depth about the horror on Malofy's face as she molted, when he caught the eye of a girl across the room.

"Who's that?"

Harry careened his head to the pale, dark haired girl after Edward had finished his laughter.

The vampire followed his gaze, to the girl on the opposite end of the room, in a dark hooded sweatshirt with dark eyes and thin lips. Her nose was pointed and her hair parted at the top of her head into dark brown curls, skin sallow pale and flushed of color. Strange, as Edward had pointed out she had moved from Arizona, near sun capital of the world.

"That's Bella." Edward lowered his voice, and Harry nodded.

She looked ordinary, actually, she looked downright indifferent from the rest of the muggles he'd seen. If she hadn't been staring so much he probably wouldn't have noticed.

"She's been staring for a while now." Harry admitted, he'd been wondering why.

But then, it hadn't taken him long to realize how the people of the school thought of Edward. And he didn't need natural legilimency like the vampire to know it. The girls whispered of him in hushed, but attracted tones. And the boys with a jealously covered by faux uncaring. Harry knew how it felt to be singled out, and new it was best not to comment on it, and instead try to make Edward feel less alone by becoming closer friends. Without all his friends, he doubted he could handle the pressure of being the chosen one.

Edward nodded. "She's intrigued by me." And then, with a dark scowl. "I can't say the same."

Harry let out a bark of laughter, stifling it behind his hand when he realized how loud it was. A couple people turned to whisper.

"They're surprised." Edward noted. "That I could make someone laugh. Or smile."

"Or be happy in general?" Harry added with revelry.

"After going through the same school curriculum year after year, it gets hard to be interested, let alone cheerful." Edward growled. He'd already explained to Harry the mass of diplomas his family collected, and promised to show it to him. Since Harry had let him see his house, he supposed he should do the same. Of course, Harry's seemed to much more interesting then his, with its magical furniture. And while his was bigger, he didn't think it could compete.

Edward spat out the stick of the blood pop, and held his breath as he pulled another one out of his pocket. Only when he was safe with another one did he begin his rhythmic, timed breathing again.

Harry only chuckled at that. "It seems strange, that you have to time your breathing. You'd think after all those years being alive that you'd have gotten used to the whole need for air thing."

"But after so many years without having to, I'll sometimes forget." Edward paused. "Once in the summer I forgot for three months. But of course, non of my family remembered to remind me, so that was probably why."

Harry only smiled, clearly entertained with all this inane talk of breathing cycles.

The bell rang then, and Edward would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed.

The crowd of people flocked to the doors, but kept at bay slightly from the two. Edward didn't seem to even notice, so Harry supposed that was how it always was. It wasn't until someone bumped in to him did Harry even remember the crowd. He turned then, and was met with dark eyes staring back at him over a pale visage.

"Sorry," Apologized the girl, even though she didn't seem to apologetic.

Harry shrugged. "It's okay." He brushed against Edward's arm accidentally, but felt the taught muscle going straight to the vampire's shoulders.

Bella.

She had yet to move though, and Harry was beginning to question if her bump into his back was completely accidental.

"Are you new here too?" She asked him slowly.

She was hard to read, and Harry still couldn't tell if she had done this purposefully or she had just simply bumped into him and decided to start a conversation. Either way, he hoped it was quick, and doubted Edward was enjoying any single moment of this.

"No." He answered quickly.

"Oh…" She gave him a strange, questioning look that read, 'But I haven't seen you around before' that he decided to ignore in hopes of cutting the conversation in half.

"So why are you here then?" Bella asked bluntly. Again, Harry was unsure if she did this to deliberately ask this or because she simply didn't know.

Instead of giving her some sort of plausible lie, he opted to swing his arm over Edward—who choked as he did so—and grin at her amusingly. "Visiting my buddy, of course!"

She blinked in surprise.

"Anyway, we have to get going." He began again quickly, before she could recover from her shock.

Lucky for the vampire next to him, she took her cue to leave wordlessly, and Edward remembered to breathe again.

"Is she magical?" Edward peered down the hallway, where Bella and her friend were walking down. The dark-haired girl kept stealing glances down the hall.

Harry paused for a moment, before shaking his head. "I honestly doubt it. If she was, her magical core is too small…she'd be a Squib."

"Squib?" Edward echoed.

"Err—someone who was born from a magical parent but has no magic."

"That happens?" He barely could wrap his mind around the whole blood part of magic. So it was passed by blood…but then how? If non-magic people could make magical children, and magical people could make non-magical children, how did that happen?

Harry seemed to have read his mind, as he chuckled and said, "It's confusing, isn't it? My friend Ron had to explain it to me, and no one really understands why it happens."

"Well I can't read her mind." Edward glowered darkly, still trailing the girl with his eyes. "And I can't read yours, or those wizards who were at your house before."

Harry blinked, and careened over Edward's shoulder to watch the girl as well.

He frowned in thought. "That shouldn't happen. The reason you can't read my mind is because of Occlumency. You see, you're a natural Legilimens, something that very few people can do. I protect my mind from Legilimens by using Occlumency. But from what I can tell, she's not an Oclumens." And then, after a pause. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact she's your Singer?"

Edward shook his head. "I don't know. But I'll tell you what; like most humans, I don't need to hear her mind to know what she's thinking." A tenebrous but altogether annoyed look passed over him.

Harry grinned in mirth. He opened the front doors where they came from and was hit with the crisp fall air. Washington and Scotland were about at the same distance from the equator, and Harry was thankful that he didn't have to go through climate change as well as a difference of time.

"I better go," He groused. "I'm completely screwing with my sleep schedule…I'd suppose it's eight in the evening in Scotland and Hermione's gonna have me studying until about four or so here."

Edward smiled at him grievously. "See you around?"

Harry grinned at him, walking backwards as he did so. "Yeah, come over any time you like. I can't promise I'll always be there, though."

And then he threw his hands up in a mild gesture. "The woes of living in two different places across the globe!"

Edward chuckled aloud at that, and blinked in surprise when Harry disappeared into thin air with a crack

While Edward was surprised with the near gun-shout sounding noise he'd hear before, Hermione certainly wasn't.

Harry popped into his living room with a crack, and Hermione bolted upright at the sound and spun quickly to face her friend and tug his ear. Harry yelped as she did so, not expecting for her to be able to catch him so fast. She stood up and yanked him over the couch in a flurry of parchment that floated to the floor like feathers, gathering on the wooden flooring like dust.

"Apparating without a license!" She huffed. "The nerve! What would Dumbledore say if he knew you were using your emancipation to do things like that?"

Harry groaned. "What _would _Dumbledore be able to do? I'm emancipated, Hermione! I can use underage magic because technically, I _am _of age!"

Hermione said nothing, only plopping down in her seat.

She turned the page of her book, before snapping it shut.

"See those books over there?"

Harry gulped. Yes. They were large and wide, probably about a full foot wide and a thousand pages inward. Without even cracking the spine Harry knew he'd hate every moment of them. Also, without even reading the title he knew the book to be a potions one. Maybe it was the way that his hairs stuck up on the back of his neck that alerted him to the danger, or the fact that Ron had graciously skipped this gathering when Harry knew he'd been dying to come over.

"You're going to read them." Her voice was steel. "All of them. By the end of the day. And then you're going to brew me those potions _correctly_."

Harry squeaked.

When Ron and he were finally let out of Slughorn's classroom after an exhausting sitting of potions tests, he doubted Hermione's studying did much of anything for him. In fact, he was sure he was worse for the ware since he had spent the whole night studying and hadn't bothered to sleep. Ron and Harry had used their free period before potions that was usually reserved for first-year watching to instead run to the library to cram for both potions and charms. Hermione didn't seem to be having any trouble at all. Hence; Hermione. When did she ever?

The day after, Ron was still hysterically fretting over the Gryffindor Slytherin game which was now only a day away. The redhead looked sick to his stomach and continued to swirl his food in abstract patterns over his plate, looking like some sort of uninterested macabre artist.

Hermione only sighed as she turned another page in her book.

Harry tried his best to cheer his best mate up, but the boy was dead set on his negativity.

"Just face it Harry," Ron groaned. "I'm a horrid keeper. McLaggen should have been made keeper."

"Not at all!" Harry hissed back, hoping there conversation wasn't loud enough to carry over to said Doxy egg eating seventh year. "You're going to do _great _Ron." And with an emphasis on the phrase, he gave Ron some ecstatic shoulder clapping.

If anything, it only made the freckled boy slump lower.

"So Harry," Hermione began conversationally, but her tone was laced with under-stated academic hush-hush, and Harry immediately leaned back slightly. "You're vampire friend. Is he a magical vampire or non-magical?"

"Magical?" Harry answered questioningly, not sure where this was leading to.

"Oh I see," And then, sotto voce, "Is it true that magical vampires have one significant power?"

"I—I'm not very sure." Harry hedged dubiously. "I know he does—

"He does?" Hermione's sharp voice made him jump.

"Yeah," He answered quickly. "Mind reading."

"Oh this is _so _fascinating." She gushed, brushing long wisps of hair out of her face fervently and leaning over the table. "Can he perform magic?"

"How would I know—

"You didn't test?"

"Wha—? No? Why would I do that?"

"_Because_! Harry, how many people do you think meet vampire clans? There's only one known wizard vampire and their covens keep to themselves." Hermione clapped her hands together wildly. "Its such a wonderful coincidence that your new location is near a coven of them! How intriguing! Have you met all of them Harry—

Said chosen one only slammed his head into the table, luckily having enough foresight to dodge his plate.

The following afternoon Harry was forced to floo immediately to Forks thanks to the Headmaster's new strict regulations against frolicking with his friends. The old man seemed bent to ruin his social life, and he was deeply missing his friends at the dorms. While Forks was charming in its small-town feel, there was something miraculous about Hogwarts castle that made him enjoy walking along the old halls even more so than usual. Just that morning he'd taken the time to sit down in front of a fountain he hadn't seen before, watching the mermaid statue twist and turn and the water spew from the pot on top of her head, and he had even sat on a stair case for a full twenty minutes until it ended up moving all the way to the seventh floor filled with angry portraits.

Mcgonagall seemed to take it upon herself to be the teacher to work her students hardest, and perhaps she had spoken to Flitwick earlier that morning and learned of his new requirements for sixth year students and decided to add some to hers.

Harry had tried to work the correct motions out of Hermione, who only sent him a scathing look and turned around to a couple other Gryffindor girls. Ever since Ron and he had caught Ginny snogging Dean Thomas and Ginny had subsequently spilled to Ron that Hermione had kissed Krum, the two turned noses at each other. Quite frankly, Harry was beginning to tire of it.

He sputtered a bit as he tripped out of the Floo, carrying a load of books and a full backpack with a feather-light charm so he didn't permanently damage his spine.

The young wizard blinked in surprise when he noticed the vampire lounging on his couch, reading _Advanced Rune Translation_.

"Hullo there." He greeted as pleasantly as he could around the quill in his mouth.

Edward looked at him strangely, but only laughed at the strange face Harry made when he tried to keep the quill from falling, and ended up knocking a couple books out of his arms in the process.

"Sorry I let myself in," He said, sitting upright. "It's Alice's fault really, she wanted to decorate your house in flowers—

"You didn't let her, did you?" Harry asked hurriedly.

"No, your plant ate all the decorations she tried to put up."

Harry sent a relieved look to the twisting vines that now stretched past the corner and into the foyer. The perennial plant had twisted on the small stretch of ceiling between the foyer and the sitting room, and a few periwinkle colored muffins were sprouting out of the leaves between teacups in long ropes that hung from the ceiling.

"She's outside playing with your cat, by the way."

He looked out the window to see said cat bolt down the yard after a rabbit.

His eyes trailed to the book Edward was reading, and asked questioningly, "Do you really find that interesting?"

The vampire shook his head. "Not really, but its better then anything we read at school. This must be my fortieth time reading Wuthering Heights."

"You don't like muggle books?"

"They're alright. But I've read most of them by now."

Harry sat opposite of the vampire, using a quick Accio charm to pull a book off of his shelf. "I enjoy them, honestly. You'll find that muggle's have a bit more of an imagination then Wizarding folk do. There aren't many fantasy books in the Wizarding World, but that may be in part because there's nothing to imagine because it can all be achieved."

"So you like muggle books?" Edward found it quite easy to get accustomed to using the word. It was much easier then saying 'human' books, and didn't make him feel so alien.

Harry nodded. Edward read the title, 'Midsummer's night dream' on the spine. "Well, I enjoy them. I'd love a class on them, but the only class that deals with Muggles is Muggle Studies, and the only thing they learn there is how to use a Toaster."

Edward cracked a smile then. "They need a class on how to use a toaster?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I think they might actually get a drivers license this year. But they don't read books in the class unless they're strictly informational."

Edward paused in thought for a moment. "I suppose you could probably take a class at Forks High, like a literature class. At our age it isn't uncommon for students to only go to school for one class."

Harry paused in half skimming his book to look wide-eyed at Edward. "You think?"

The vampire hummed in thought. "Well I'm sure you could. Although usually students who only go to one class at the high school are taking the rest of them at a local college, but you don't have to tell them that." He eyed Harry's wand curiously. "Weren't you saying something about a charm that confuses people?"

"Confoundous." Harry nodded. "That could work…" He smiled then. "I'll go over and see if I can take a class!"

"We're not too far into the term yet."

"Great!" And then, Harry blinked owlishly at Edward, who blinked back. An idea had struck him. "What do you think of seeing the Wizarding World?"

Edward tilted his head. "There's a Wizarding World in America?"

"Maybe, but I don't know about it." Harry jerked his head to the floo. "You see; we're having a Quidditch Match in a couple days against Slytherin—it's one of the other houses. Maybe you and Alice could come and watch? I know you were asking about what a Quidditch pitch looked like."

Edward smiled then. "I'd love it."

"Awesome!" Harry grinned at him.

Edward leaned back in thought. He wondered what the wizarding world that Harry explained so fervently looked like. He watched the birds fly in circles at the top of the ceiling, the vines growing behind the couch, the smoking cauldron in the kitchen and the shaking plant that Harry had just dropped off, and he wondered what else the wizarding world held in store for him.

* * *

_"Edward grabs Bella's hand and smells it. In the book, this action is written with a bit more passion, but yeah…he sniffs her. Do women like this? Every time I sniff a woman's hand, it usually ends with her nervously saying, "Umm…" followed by, "OK, you can spit now. The dentist will be with you in a moment."_

_I am now officially going to end every single chapter with a Dan Bergstein quote on twilight. Yes! This is shameless promotion! Like what you see? Visit my profile! Or, read Danny Berg's blog on sparklife._

_REVIEW!_


	5. White Magic

_These are way too long! I just realized that the chapters usually pass the eight thousand word mark. Eh, whatever. Enjoy. The song is Pogo's White Magic. I'll be thoroughly disappointed if no one has ever heard of Pogo. He's this trippy electronic guy who takes Disney songs and chops them up into sick beats, he had this really cool one called Alice on youtube a while ago._

_

* * *

_

_l--l_

_miracle alone,_

_sword in the stone._

_it's _

_white magic._

_l--l_

_x. pogo_

Bella Swan made her way out of her first block Biology class warily. Edward watched her with more then enough caution as she was swamped by the many bustling students of Forks High when she stepped out of the threshold of the science classroom. He let out a harsh breath, and sucked in another just as quickly, suddenly greedy for air. The girl was like a deep pressure against his nerves, jagged and rigged, making his hairs stand on end and the back of his head clench in pain from stopping himself from doing something he'd later regret.

His only upside to even attending this godforsaken school happened to be his next class.

It was precisely nine thirty when he made his way to the third floor. There were only fifteen or so classes up here, one of which was the advanced literature class. It was made up of particularly nerdy juniors, but mostly seniors who had an innate fascination with the subject. None of which were overly fussy or nosy, unlike Ms. Swan and her crew of gossip hounds.

Bella and her posse of pretty junior girls would never—and, with their abysmal GPA, probably could never—set foot in this cramped classroom. Even if they knew of the exceedingly handsome 'transfer' student from Canada that had set the school ablaze in rumors.

The room was small and nestled away at the end of the dirty corridor. It was obvious from the mating dust bunnies in the corners of the hallway that the third floor was usually the last to receive any sort of rebuilding or funding whatsoever. Not many people with a grade average of three point six or lower were probably even aware of the advanced courses offered on this floor.

Harry Potter, the new transfer from Ontario, was sitting in the back of the classroom with a copy of "Alice in Wonderland" in hand, looking altogether amused by the literature. Most of the kids were in the front row, and none spared him any glances. He looked entirely in place in the class, wearing a nondescript white and black striped long sleeve with a plain shirt on top of it. Edward doubted that not an ounce of what he was wearing had been purchased by the boy himself, rather, by his exuberant sister.

"Do you like the book?" Edward asked conversationally as he slid into the seat next to the boy.

When he realized Harry had taken up his idea and had confound the administration office to believe that he was a junior with grades of unheard of perfection, he had dropped his merit English to endeavor into the world of advanced classes. And he was glad he had done so. He'd much rather be reading Grapes of Wrath with Harry then Wuthering Heights in the company of one Bella Swan and Lauren Mallory.

Harry looked up with a wry grin. "I think I enjoy your offhanded comments more then the actual plot." He motioned to the scrawl in the worn copy of the classic; Edward had lent him the book, clearly forgetting his sarcastic questioning of the author's sanity.

"Occasionally, I find myself in the mood for humor."

"Once in a while, then?" Harry beamed, already accustomed to the vampire's dry sense of humor.

Edward turned to get a better look of the dark, tousled hair and bright green eyes. "Only once in a while." His face split in the slightest of smiles, but Harry caught it, and his turned tenfold.

The teacher began the lecture on the latest chapter they were covering, but Edward was too engrossed watching Harry twirl his pencil then pay attention to a lesson he had certainly heard before. Not only was Harry a more fascinating subject then the works of John Steinbeck, he was also much more pleasant company then the Joad family. Probably a lot more pleasing to the eye, too. The boy had the most vivid of green eyes—a trait he learned the boy had inherited from his late mother—that reminded him of quick brush strokes of watercolor, Monet garden series beautiful in its patchwork of malachite and viridian. "Avada Kadevra green." Alice had prompted, when he had asked her why they were so startling. When he asked, what, exactly Avada Kadevra was, she couldn't give him a straight answer.

"_Something dangerous." She mused aloud, with stormy eyes. "Very frightening...I don't think I'd want to know what it is, really."_

Harry must have caught him out of the corner of his eye, as the wizard turned to send him a questioning glance. Edward turned away quickly, trying harder to listen to the lesson.

By the end of it, the two were walking side by side. Edward with one hand on his bag and Harry carrying his worn copy of Lewis Carroll's treasure, along with the books for his curriculum. They apparently made quite a spectacle, especially when Alice gracefully made her way through the crowd to walk with them, a twirl in her steps. As usual, she looked quite strange in a rather fashionable perspective, stockings striped black and gray, sliding into her boots and meeting her sweater dress with its large belt elegantly.

They made their way into lunch, Alice tagging along with great pleasure. She was supposed to be going to her third block class, seeing as though she didn't have the first lunch shift with them. The Cullen's ate second shift, and since Edward had changed his class, he'd been switched from their shift as well. Not that he particularly minded, having Harry as company was an exceptional blessing he was keenly aware of as more time passed.

The shorter boy seemed lost in thought, and he wondered what could possibly have him in such maundering spirits. Not melancholic, just simply, ...lost.

"Are you alright?" He began cautiously, hoping he wasn't stepping on a nerve.

The brunette looked up quickly, and Edward was caught in the startling bright of his eyes, glassy in their sheen. "I'm alright." A soft smile spread over his face. He had donned his glasses in favor of reading his latest book. The two had secluded themselves into one of the smaller back tables, in a corner with the whole lunch room in sight. Edward usually sat their placidly, hardly touching his meals, as Harry ate away and chatted about his Hogwarts classes.

Lately, however, the wizard seemed distracted and upset. He wondered if something was wrong.

"Why do you ask?" The boy tilted his head, strands of chocolate falling over the slightest spray of freckles beneath his lashes.

He shrugged. "You look so deep in thought, usually your not one for thinking."

His grin grew wider at that. "Not one for thinking? Some people might take that as an insult."

"But your not 'some people', now are you?" He shot back, dryly.

"I suppose not." Harry mused. "Not many can turn teacups into mice. Did I tell you that my professor can turn herself into a cat? My first day in Transfiguration my friend Ron and I were late to class—it was a usual occurrence, I mean, the stairs change on you everyday and sometimes corridors disappear, so the teachers really should be more lenient—and when we finally got there the teacher was nowhere in sight. Ron started saying how relieved he was, when this cat on the desk _morphs _into my Professor Mcgonagall! Craziest thing I've ever seen. She's an Animagus, so's my godfather Sirius, actually. He can turn into a dog. My father was one too, apparently—

And like that, Harry was back to normal, taking a bite into his apple and beginning more fascinating tales of the magical world that had Edward so enthralled. Harry spun stories better then the greatest writers, with such a lulling quality that made him sit with rapt attention. Today however, he was more subdued in interest than usual. He knew Harry was explaining what an Animagus was because he didn't want Edward to notice whatever was troubling him.

Edward decided it would be better to just let the boy think he had fooled him, and not pry. As much as he wanted to.

–

–

Later that week, Harry sighed as he flopped ungraciously onto his bed. The upstairs of his house was rather large, but he had taken to the farthest bedroom to the left. The balcony placed between his long windows was usually opened for the wind to brush past the French doors, but he had closed them when he realized how frighteningly cold it had gotten. There wasn't much in his bedroom aside from, well, a bed, and a drawer with overflowing clothes (most of his outfits he picked from the floor). The bathroom, miraculously, was spared of any hygienic faults. Probably due to living with Neville for so long.

He tried to think of all the massive homework he had waiting downstairs, and moaned when his head started to hurt.

Not only did Snape find his greatest weakness—writing essays—but he had exploited mercilessly. Everyday the class wrote a new one on some defensive technique or other. Yesterday he had busted his ass off writing one on Inferi. At least that one was semi-needed, he was aware Voldemort had used them greatly in the last war. It was probable he'd do it again. The spells at least, were intense and thoroughly enjoyable, and he got them quickly.

Mcgonagall and Flitwick seemed to have some sort of rivalry blossoming, because every time he walked into their classes the ante had been upped and more tedious homework had been assigned. Perhaps they were simply going senile, but Harry would bet that the two were competing to see which class could make the student's lives significantly more hell then the other. Right now, Charms was winning, but he knew for a fact that by next weekend it would be Transfiguration all over again. The two of them, as well as Snape, had discovered his innate weakness and poor handwriting, and had assigned essays as well.

None of which he had started. Procrastination; an art worthy of only the greatest of students.

Luckily Professor Sprout was much more considering when it came to an injustice of homework, and had simply assigned him to take care of his arch nemesis, the elusive Venomous Tentacula. The monstrous, and vile plant could usually be found lurking in the shadowy depths of Sprout's greenhouse. The roots were a tangled mess in the darkest of corners, while the leaves sprouted immediately towards the sunlight. The one had had taken home must have been a foot or two tall, and had grown three times its height since he had unceremoniously dropped it in his sunroom.

Slughorn was by far the easiest of his classes. But that didn't stop his kitchen from being converted into a partial potions lab. He was so sure that was unsanitary on so many levels, especially when he had an alligator heart chilled in his fridge next to his milk and eggs.

Hermione had come and installed a couple more charms that weekend, dragging a begrudging Ron. He didn't think his absence could have caused the strain on their relationship, because the two looked as if they'd rather be anywhere but together. Strange how that played out, seeing as though a month or two ago they couldn't get enough of each other. He realized the brunt of the problem when Hermione had irritatedly made an offhand comment on Ron's moronic girlfriend. He learned, as she spelled his books to automatically rearrange themselves and taught him typical cleaning charms, that it was Lavender Brown. That wasn't surprising, seeing as though he had consoled her when said vapid girl had taken Ron by the nape of the neck and proceeded to shove her tongue down his throat after the Quidditch match.

He had said something about how he knew his fair share of unrequited love, but in truth, he really hadn't. He had been so sure that there was something about Ginny...but he hadn't felt anything but an impassive wash slide over him when he had seen the redhead and Dean. In fact, he had the urge more to retch along with Ron rather then sit in seething fury.

He had more important problems to worry about.

Which lead him back to his original problem, and reason for not moving from a boneless lump in his bed.

Edward was obviously aware to some degree that he hadn't quite told him everything he knew about the magical world. In fact, he was hoping to postpone that fact for as long as possible. The vampire was blissfully unaware of any sort of stirrings of war, seeing as though it would hardly affect him in the dreary town of Forks. But flooing to Scotland was like a wakeup call every time. School wasn't just about indulging in muggle hobbies. Students had become wary of deception, and he was becoming more and more aware of who Tom Riddle was, and how that effected him.

Dumbledore had showed him more then he cared to know about his greatest adversary, memories he had collected over the years that fit everything into place—what, exactly, he didn't know. But the man had tasked him to retrieve the memories from Slughorn, and he would have to find a way to do that one way or another.

All the troubles that mounted up behind him like a looming shadow that pooled beneath his feet—he hadn't breathed a word to Edward about. How could he? He kept their conversation light and filled with tales of dreamy whimsy of the magical world. The kind he liked to remember, rather then the one he lived in at present; riddled with problems, a faltering corrupt government, and enemies at every corner.

He sighed. Time for school.

"Harry?"

The boy who lived paused in retrieving the book he was aiming for off of the shelf.

Around him, books magically resorted themselves once the students left them unattended. One near caught his ear and he ducked out of the way before the thing could fully smack him. He stumbled before noticing Hermione with next to him, looking quite livid. She and Ron were still at odds with each other. He sighed warily.

His best friends schedule was so full that Harry could only properly see her in the evenings, when Ron was, in any case, so tightly wrapped around Lavender that he didn't notice that Harry was spending his free nights in the library with his "enemy". And since Hermione refused to be in the common room while the redhead was in the room, Harry generally joined her in the library—which, admittedly made their conversations into light whispers in fear of the monstrous librarian.

"He's got prefect liberty to kiss whomever he likes." She said aloud, more to herself then to him, while Madam Pince prowled the shelves behind them. "I really couldn't care less." She insisted with such fervor that her hand quivered until a dot on her _i _hit so ferociously that she punctured a hole clean in her parchment. Harry decided to keep his mouth shut, thinking it might vanish soon from lack of use. Saying anything to either of his best friends could make them angered at him, as well, and he found it best to let them rant without interruption.

He opted to instead continue to read through the text in his battered copy of _Advanced Potions Making, _silently thanking the Half-Blood Prince for such insight in Everlasting Elixirs, pausing to skewer at the frighteningly familiar scrawl on the pages. From where they were familiar, however, he couldn't quite decipher.

"And incidentally." She began anew after a few moments. "You need to be careful."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "For the last time," He began. "I am not giving back this book, I've learned more from the Half Blood Prince then Snape and Slughorn combined—

"I wasn't talking about your stupid book." She shot back, reminding him of a spitting cat whose pride had been smeared. A rather accurate description, if he said so himself. "I'm talking about earlier. I went into the girl's bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party, and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work—"

"Why didn't you confiscate them?" Harry's eyes grew to match his frightened, bewildered face. It seemed extraordinary that Hermione's law abiding tendencies would abandon her at such a crucial juncture.

"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom." She said, regrettably. "They were just discussing tactics—

Harry guffawed loudly and had to keep his mouth from dropping and his quill from flipping out of the twirl between his fingers to create a permanent ink splot that would no doubt have Madam Pince stark raving mad.

And with some amount of scorn she added; "I doubt you're beloved Half-Blood Prince—" At this, she gave the book another nasty look. "Could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once. I'd just invite someone to go with you, that'll stop the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting desperate."

The young wizard still had a wide-eyed look to him hair tousled over his glasses and looking so horrified it was as if his face was contorting through unsure, to terrified, to downright repulsed.

"There isn't anyone I'd want to invite." The boy answered, with blunt honesty. The more he thought about it, the more he wished he could invite Alice or something, she'd enjoy the whole formal party so much more then any of the vapid shallow Gryffindor girls would—in fact, she'd be much nicer company as well. He'd love to invite Edward, just to see the girls swoon over his dreamy-eyes and tousled saffron hair. He imagined the vampire attending Hogwarts, before shaking himself out of his musings, a sudden blush rising to his cheeks.

"Well just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business," Warned Hermione, grimly.

She then stood up with a flourish, hastily hitching up the long roll of parchment on which she was writing her Arithmancy essay and continued the perpetual scowl on her face. Harry watched distantly with his mind far far away, closer to Edward then it was to his best friend beside him.

"Hang on a moment," He began with a blink. "I thought Filch had that ban on all Weasley Wizard Wheezes?"

"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch banned, and on that note, what Filch says or does in general?" Hermione snorted, distracted by her vast essay and meticulously rolling it up.

"But I thought all the owls were being searched. So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into school?"

"Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions." The brunette explained. "It's part of their Owl Order Service."

"You know a lot about it." Harry baited slowly.

Hermione gave him the kind of nasty look she had just given his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

"It was all on the back of the bottles they showed Ginny and me this summer." She sniffed coldly, in a manner that made Harry not believe a word of it. "I don't go around putting potions in people's drinks...or pretending to, either, which is just as bad..."

The subtle punt to him was not left unnoticed by the young wizard, but he brushed it off in favor of changing the subject tactfully. "Well never mind that." He started. "The point is, Filch is being fooled, isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malfoy have brought the necklace into school—

"Oh, Harry." She rolled her eyes with an excessive motion, as if she was talking to a slow, dim-witted child. "Not that again..."

"Come on, why not?" He demanded.

"Look," Hermione sighed. "Think of the difference between a frivolous love potion, and a deadly necklace? See much of a connection there? You're over thinking Harry—

Hermione stopped dead—and Harry heard it too, a slight movement behind them. Somebody had moved close behind them among the darkened bookshelves. They waited, and a moment later the vulturelike countenance of Madam Pince rounded the corner, her sunken cheeks, sallow skin and long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she held.

The two immediately scampered away, and Harry took a deep breath once they moved out of the whisper-quiet library and into the refreshing air of the lamp-lit corridors.

"She'll ban you from the library if you're not careful." Hermione spoke aloud, skewering her companion with a glare. "Honestly, what if she had seen your stupid book?"

"It wouldn't be my fault; she's barking mad, Hermione. Honestly, I bet there's something going on between her and Filch. You think she heard us being rude about him? "

"Oh, ha ha. Let's not put horrid mental images in my brain, now."

The two made their way back into the Gryffindor common room quickly, hoping not to get spotted by the ever-watchful caretaker of the grounds who seemed to have a personal vendetta against young Mister Potter and an uncanny sense of where the wizard was at all times, as they were arguing about whether Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love or not.

Between debating if Filch could perhaps have been a looker in his far, far, youth—this, he and Hermione both agreed was a marginal five percent—Hermione spotted another book tucked beneath his arms, this one just as battered as the Half-Blood Prince's, but had yet to do anything to set Hermione's ire like the aforementioned one.

"What's that?"

Without waiting for an answer, she swiped it clean from between his haphazard mess of papers tucked between two books.

"Err, that's—"

"Alice in Wonderland." Read Hermione with surprise. "A classic. I'm surprised you're reading this."

"I like literature, I suppose." He shrugged noncommittally, looking away so she couldn't see the flush over his cheeks in the dim lighting.

Hermione grinned slyly. "I never knew you could be so academic, Harry."

"It's just a book, Hermione." And then he paused, and with a sheepish look, added; "And a class."

"A class?" Hermione blinked, turning her head curiously. "What do you mean? Hogwarts doesn't have any classes that would teach Muggle literature. In fact, I don't think they have one for literature at all."

"It's not in Hogwarts." Harry bit out, looking more embarrassed by the moment.

"You're taking a literature class at Forks?" Hermione breathed in quickly, disbelieving. "Goodness," She began with a dry grin as they neared the portrait. "I never thought you'd be the one to delve into anything of the academic nature without brutal encouragement—"

"Oh shut it. I can be productive, occasionally." He said nothing more on the topic, huffing considerably as Hermione giggled.

"Baubles." Said Harry clearly to the fat lady, after struggling through his bags to find the scrap of paper he'd written it on.

"Same to you." Answered the Fat Lady with a roguish grin, and she swung forward to admit them in.

"Hi Harry!" Immediately, Romilda Vane bounded forwarded as he climbed through the portrait hole. "Fancy a gillywater?"

Hermione gave him a "what-did-I-tell-you?" look over her shoulder as she strode ahead of him, leaving him to fend for himself against the harpy.

"No thanks." Harry quickly replied, trying to duck out of her way, but she kept stepping on front of him. "I don't like it much."

"Well take these anyway," She smiled, thrusting a box into his hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got firewhiskey in them. My gran sends them to me, but I don't like them."

"Oh right—thanks a lot." Harry took the gift with befuddlement, not knowing what else to say. He immediately spotted Hermione some ways ahead of him, pushing past the lovesick girl in great haste to catch up to his only safe female friend. "Err—I'm just going to go over there with...."

He hurried off until he leveled with Hermione.

"Told you." She clucked succinctly. "The sooner you ask someone, the sooner they leave you alone..."

She looked as if she was about to say more, but her face suddenly grew impassive, and she turned abruptly. "Well, good night Harry." And his gaze trailed to where she had no doubt spotted Lavender and Ron entwined in the same armchair.

–

–

"Sounds complicated." Edward commented as the older boy plopped into the seat next to Harry, which looked dreadfully old as if it had withstood most of the school's renovations only partially unscathed.

Harry nodded with a sigh. "Gryffindor girls are too...shallow, I suppose. Every moment Romilda Vane was talking to me I thought she'd transform into some sort of shrieking harpy with talons and claw the side of my face—

Edward only smiled kindly throughout Harry's spun tale filled with thirteen percent more horrific descriptions on the strange feminine species then usual, and his sudden, spurred hatred for Slughorn and his ridiculous party. Edward wasn't sure what to make of the wrench in his heart when he realized that Harry was certainly as popular—if not more—at Hogwarts as he was at Forks.

Harry handed him back his book back, with a bit of a shy smile. "Thanks for letting me read it. I was pretty surprised at its...lack of plot."

Edward grinned. "It's quite an enthralling tale nonetheless, no?"

"Absolutely." Harry nodded with enthusiasm. "Have any others to recommend?"

"Well, I've always been quite a fan of Sense and Sensibility."

Class started, and Edward was left to silently muse about the boy next to him. Harry had once again tumbled out of his house when the vampire had come to pick him up with Alice in tow, a quill stuck behind his ear and a smudge of ink on his cheek. He had gotten home from Hogwarts not too long ago, and had changed out of his robes into the first wear-able garment he could find, this one being a dark shirt that brightened his eyes, and a pair of ripped jeans and battered kicks without laces. Not that Edward could make any sort of negative comment about his apparel, the boy had a tendency to look stunning no matter what he wore.

It was obvious to the vampire by now—probably would have been much sooner if he'd had the sense to think out his feelings more—that Harry was growing to be much more important than a friend.

By the time class had let out, his thoughts had curbed full circle, once again settling perpetually onto the boy walking in front of him. Alice had bought the wizard contacts, saying that while the wiry glasses gave him quite a John Lennon kind of look, it just wasn't in style at the moment. Edward wasn't complaining, without their sheen, he could watch the colors flicker past Harry's eyes without disruption. The residents of Forks high had noticed as well, as Harry received more glances then usual, girls giggling in herds as they passed, guys giving the once over. He sped up his pace to walk beside the oblivious wizard.

The two sat through lunch once more, Harry talking animatedly about the latest of Hogwarts drama, being sure to stray far away from his suspicions on Malfoy and the Dark Lord, and, anything depressing in general. He didn't want to ruin his sparse time with the vampire with all the troubles of the wizarding world.

The bell rang abruptly, and Edward decided that sitting through his history class and chemistry class wasn't worth missing out on a day with Harry. It was Friday anyway, and he was sure he could convince Alice to tag along and skip. He felt a bit bad that he had been skimming time with his siblings in favor of Harry's company, but he figured that one of these days he would introduce Harry to the family, and his mother would swoon, and his father would be pleased to see him out of his moody state, and Emmett would do some ecstatic shoulder clapping while Rosalie only huffed, and Alice would be downright delighted.

Immediately, he drew a breath of air and near choked, Harry stiffening in front of him, before turning around worriedly.

The wizard reacted quickly by pulling out a wrapped lollipop, which Edward took gratefully. His eyes met the dark ones of a curious gaze behind the arch of Edward's shoulder. The vampire walked in front of him in haste to get away from his singer, and Harry decided to wait around rather then catch up to him. Bella Swan leveled in pace with him, as he shoved his hands in his pockets and decidedly looked everywhere but at her.

"So you are part of the school." She insisted suddenly, drawing up from their previous—and only—conversation.

He shrugged. "I never really said I wasn't."

"What classes are you in?"

"The core ones, nothing interesting." He answered vaguely, wondering why the muggle was so intrigued with him. He wondered if it had less to do with him and more to do with Edward. The girl seemed to have a bit of a fascination with the vampire, and he wondered how far she'd go for shallow attraction.

She hedged closer to him, as the crowd thickened and the two were pressed closer. Harry immediately dodged her bony shoulder, knowing that any more contact he had with her and Edward would be smelling it for the rest of the day.

He took a turn into the bathroom before she could question him further. Waiting it out until a few more seconds had passed before he exited once more. It wasn't hard to find Alice or Edward— or for that matter, the Cullen clan in general—the two looked shockingly more beautiful then the faceless crowd among them, with their cold beauty.

Alice waved him over with a beaming smile, as Edward stood behind her, hands in his pockets with a significantly lesser toned, but altogether still there, smile on his face.

He caught up to them as the three chatted amiably until the reached Edward's car.

"It's Friday, you know." Alice began with a sly grin. "This marks the first full week Harry has attended Forks High!"

Harry sent her a strained smile. "Now, not only do I live in two different places, I go to two different schools!"

Edward chuckled, while Alice swatted him on the back. "No one told you that you had to go to school here!"

Harry only turned his eyes skyward, pulling on his winter jacket as he eyed the stratosphere. "But I wanted to." And, he wanted to make sure Edward was alright. The more he learned about vampire's and their mechanics—to Hermione's evident delight, the girl was so surprised at his spurred interest in knowledge she had hugged him—the more he realized how hard it was to stay in such close proximity with one's singer. And Harry wasn't as oblivious as he made out, he knew that to some degree his presence helped soothe Edward's nerves. This was no doubt because of their connection to the same magical world.

One that neither of his new companions had seen before.

Harry suddenly blinked with a sudden realization.

"It's Friday." He breathed, around the fur lining of his hood. One of the latest fashion items of the winter season, Alice had told him when she hurried him to try it on that morning. It was lined with fur at the hood, and dark green in coloring with an abundance of pockets. Perfect to hold nondescript magical items he had taken to carrying.

Alice rolled her eyes as she made her way into the parking lot. "I believe I just made you aware of this fact."

"But—" Harry struggled for words that would make him sound significantly less stupid, but failed to find any. Instead, he jabbed Edward's arm as the other boy began to chuckle in renewed fervor.

The three got into the car and Edward immediately turned on the heat, Harry sliding into the backseat and watching students of the school eye the car with jealousy. He figured it was one of those kinds that Dudley would kill for.

"The weekend doesn't end until Tuesday." Harry noted aloud, as he thought of the calender he'd posted on his fridge with the Fork's High emblem on it. "Or at least, yours doesn't. Hogwarts doesn't have days off for student teacher conferences."

"And how were classes today?" Edward asked lightly as he didn't bother to check his rear view mirror, knowing where the car behind him was from the sound of its exhaust pipe and the distance it was from his ears.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright I guess. I finally got the Auguamenti charm, and I don't know what crap Flitwick'll make us learn next. Professor Snape still hates me, and has taken to singling me out whenever he can to duel him in the front of the class. I'm good at the spells, but I mean, I'm nowhere at his level."

"Sounds pretty immature." Alice commented with disdain. "Teachers shouldn't do that kind of stuff."

"I know." Harry agreed. "Snape is the kind to hold grudges—

His sentence was abruptly cut off when Edward floored the brakes, sending him near hurdling out the window. Luckily, he remembered his seatbelt this time. The vampire was busy holding his breath and sliding the window back up, eying the red truck in front of them with frenzy. Alice worriedly placed her hand on her brothers shoulder, and Harry frowned.

Bella was a constant danger to Edward, if anything happened that could endanger the vampire's to the muggles around them, the Cullen family would probably leave immediately. And Harry didn't want that. He'd just met them, and would be lying if he said he wasn't fond of them.

Not only was she a threat, but she was straining on Edward more and more it seemed, with each passing day.

When he'd asked Alice about it, she had only sent him a sidelong glance and said that there was nothing they could do. Edward would simply have to suffer until the other girl graduated. Even now, the weekend looked glummer then before.

Harry watched the crossing telephone lines in thought, the large poles silhouetted by the marginally setting sun. Only two-thirty yet the sun was already making its downward curve. He mused on the cold winter days that would soon hit Scotland. They'd already had more then enough snow, even though December had just begun. It was going to get cold their real fast, and even though warming charms were used liberally around the castle, that did nothing for the cold in dormitories. He knew for a fact that his old roommates had stuck Neville in the bed nearest to the drafty window in Gryffindor Tower. He figured he should get his Christmas shopping done, and perhaps get the boy a blanket with a permanent warming charm at Diagon Alley...

"Why don't you guys come with me?" He began suddenly.

Alice and Edward turned at the same time, obviously engrossed in a conversation he hadn't been listening to and blinked at his sudden outburst.

"Well sure Harry," Alice rolled her eyes. "But where?"

He smiled then. "To Diagon Alley, for some shopping."

The girl's eyes went wide. "Really? _Really_? Can we go right now? Oh, I've been absolutely dying to see this place, after everything you've told me! The Weasley Joke shop...the Apothecary...and the Pet shop—

At the mention of the various stores in the Alley, Harry was immediately reminded of the shopping center's sudden decline in popularity. At first, Hogwarts had been the dream he was living in, and waking up to Forks was like waking up to reality. Suddenly, it had flipped and now Forks was the place without worry, and every day at Hogwarts the students looked more concerned and confused as the time went on. Dumbledore had begun his lessons tenfold, hurriedly explaining more and more of Tom Riddle's befuddled past, as if there was no time to waste. The once glorious Diagon Alley was now filled with wary shoppers who stayed in clusters amongst themselves, the screams from Knockturn even more louder then they had ever been before.

"Uh—Harry?" Alice broke him from his depressing musings.

"Sorry. I was spacing out." He confessed. "Of course we can go now. I'll teach you how to use the floo when we get to my house."

"Edward, isn't this wonderful!" She said delightedly, as she tugged her brothers arm. The other vampire probably should be paying more attention to the road, and not to the distinct color of Harry's eyes in his rear view mirror.

"Very." He answered honestly. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, especially when it came to Harry and his mysterious world.

He pulled into the driveway to Harry's house with one hand, and the eccentric wizard in the gasped in shock and horror when he noticed the strange purple smoke erupting from his kitchen window. He sprung out immediately to tame his wayward potion, bemoaning something about the last of his fobbleworms, before mad dashing into his house and leaving the door wide open for Cheshire to spring into freedom.

Edward chuckled with mirth as he turned the engine off, Alice jumping out of the car to chase the wayward cat around the lawn, shouting on about rabbits and tea parties and croquet.

The male vampire casually exited the vehicle, much unlike his haphazard companions, and let himself into the house that smelt like ripe pears. He belatedly saw Harry swatting down a black speck of a wild berry before it sprang at him. He hardly had enough time to smack it back into the kitchen before another jumped at him.

"What is that?" He asked, bewildered, wondering if he even wanted to know.

Harry was too busy using the flat side of his knife to skewer the monstrous berries down, and Edward decided the living room was by far the safest place in Harry's house. Ever since the Venomous Tentacula—apparently, Harry's latest man-eating herbology project, had nested itself in the wizard's vast sun room. Perhaps due to the floor to ceiling windows in the room in question, which had attracted the rather large ominously purple plant to begin with. Edward whirled in surprise when he felt a tap to his shoulder.

The teacup plant had tapped him with one of its vines, offering him a crass looking sweater made of a terrible shade of burnt orange and muddy green, about three sizes too large and made from some sort of plant-like fiber that certainly was not cotton.

"Err—" The vampire held out his hands awkwardly to receive the ugly looking gift, remembering keenly how Harry had warned that the plant didn't take well to turning down offers. "Thank you." He finished lamely, wondering how far his life had come for him to be thanking a plant..

Alice came in then, Cheshire looking quite sour in her arms as she strode past him and into the kitchen, coughing on the acrid sickly sweet smell from Harry's latest botched concoction, and apparently heading for the adjacent sun room. She squawked in surprise, dropped the yowling cat, and made a hasty retreat when she noticed the looming plant that had sieged the sun room and ousted out the rest of the house's inhabitants.

"What is that?" She asked slowly, looking rather green in the face.

"My herbology project." Replied Harry, by way of explanation.

"Why'd it try to eat me?"

"I must've fed it something wrong." Said the wizard, not looking up from his deep concentration with his faltering potion skills. The boy swiped a ratted book from its place in the cupboard and immediately flipped it open. "It's not supposed to be man eating."

"Man eating." Alice repeated.

"Oh yes. Most plants are. It's a natural selection kind of thing. My friend Neville thinks its all quite fascinating. Yesterday he took my copy of the, "Encyclopedia of flesh eating plants" that my Professor Sprout had assigned to us. His apparently was eaten yesterday."

Alice turned slightly green, as she strode as far away as possible from the sun room.

Her horror quickly subsided when she caught sight of the pot sitting atop the fireplace mantle, filled with a dark, shimmery, powdery substance. She held it up to inspect if closer with childlike wonder. Behind her, Edward had sat himself onto the couch, abysmal sweater next to him, as he eyed the wonders of a magical household. As scrubber magically scrubbed off all the dirt from the plates stacked up near the sink, and Edward knew that he'd have to get Harry to charm their sponge as well—his mother would go livid at the sight.

Harry finally looked up from his potion, looking quite fetching with a line of purple smudged across his cheeks and a triumphant grin spread over his face. "Alright! All done!"

"Not quite." Edward chuckled, as he stood to wipe off the leftover potion that had settled beneath Harry's eyes.

The boy looked up quickly, bright eyes watching the golden ones that were concentrating on rubbing off the residue. Their eyes met and Harry could feel the brush of cold against his cheek, feather light, smooth the dust off softly. He turned away abruptly once Edward dropped his hand, moving briskly over to where Alice was sticking her hand into the floo powder, hiding the incarnadine that rushed to his cheeks. Edward stood, motionless, eyes trailing the boys figure as he hastily moved away.

"Alright, so this is very simple. You take a handful of the powder and say, _very clearly, _where you want to go. In this case, you'll want to say, "Diagon Alley". And then you throw the powder into the fireplace."

"That's it?" Alice turned to face him, incredulously.

He nodded with a smile.

"Diagon Alley!" She pronounced, throwing down the powder with a flourish, before twirling into the erupting green flames.

Harry turned to Edward, not quite meeting the vampire's eyes as he watched him. Wordlessly, Edward moved forward to grab a handful of the floo dust, some of it dripping from his palm and glittering to the floor.

"Diagon Alley." He tossed the powder into the hearth, eyes never leaving Harry's, even though the green of the wizard's irises were situated somewhere near the ceiling, which had become suddenly a fascinating study.

After the golden haired vampire had disappeared amidst emerald colored flames, Harry released an outtake of a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. He tried to wipe off the lick of heat on his cheeks with the cool comfort of the back of his hand, but it wouldn't die down. In the end, he decided to ignore it, taking a handful for himself and repeating the instructions he'd given the two vampires.

He was immediately greeted with a squeal as Alice stepped out into the sunshine, holding her hands out and twirling amidst one of the plazas of the Alleyway. Around her, wizarding life flourished. Shoppers had made good work of the once deserted wizarding center, coming in packs for the Winter holiday shopping. There was a man to the left selling balloons to young children, holding the charmed balloons in his hands that massed to look like a colorful, swirling dragon. In the center was a sprite fountain, the water turning into a jubilant fairy that sprayed water at passerby after passerby. The owlery was some ways behind her and a dozen or so owls and bats with an array of colors were ruffling their feathers.

And down the corner stood the large Weasley Emporium, looking more grand then usual with its bright coloring and mass of customers.

"This is wonderful!" Alice cried, as he and Edward caught up to her.

"I'm glad you find it so enjoyable." Harry said with some amusement, as her eyes lit up once she saw the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes down the street.

"Where can we go first? Where's the pet shop? And the magically flavored ice cream parlor? And the book store—

"We'll see everything, I promise." Harry pacified her with a chuckle, all thoughts of awkward brushes of cold skin disseminated in the face of Diagon Alley's magical wonders.

"What are we waiting for, then?" She tugged at their hands, shining in delight. "Let's go!"

* * *

_Next chapter: Alice, Edward and Harry spend a day in Diagon Alley, and Edward becomes one step closer to discovering what Harry's been hiding. Also, the young wizard is introduced to Edward's stunningly beautiful yet rather rude sister, Rosalie._

_**NOW, FOR YOUR READING ENJOYMENT, MY LATEST DAN BERGSTEIN QUOTE**_

_Dan Bergstein's summary of Chapter One of Twilight:_

_No vampires here, just a lot of explanation about Bella and her family. Lonely Bella moved to her dad's house in rainy Washington State because her mom is busy traveling around the country. Broken home? Check. Angst-ridden daughter who calls her dad by his first name? Check. Lots of rain and clouds? Check. So far, this seems like the plot of every Sundance award winning film ever made. All that's missing is a shocking, raw sex scene and a few cancer-related deaths._


	6. Pogo

_I'm surprised with myself. This was a long time coming.

* * *

_

_l-l_

_there's something in the air,_

_it's been quite a while since I could experience your brightness_

_and now you've got a brighter smile and I think I'm going to like it._

_l-l_

_x. digitalism_

"It's," Alice paused, and gave another long lick. "I'm not very sure really. I want to say lime. Or maybe not. Something citrus, I'm fairly sure."

Harry shrugged. "Oh, I never know. I always just pick the new ones. They all taste good anyway."

Harry supposed that if there was one good thing about not living in Hogwarts, it was all the free time he got on the weekends and after school to go wherever he wanted. He wasn't particularly good at apparating yet, but he was sure his floo wasn't tuned to Dumbledore because he had been successfully able to get to Diagon Alley without any interference.

The two of them, Alice and Harry, as Edward had yet to come out of Waldo's Books and Things of Interest (which he had been in for over two hours now) had parked their activities to spend a couple minutes watching one of the Alley's many plazas flourish to life.

"Oh goodness! Harry! Harry?" Alice had sprung up, hands waving in the air as a cloud of balloons was released over the air. She spun around to look at him, dazzled, hair caught in the wind and her skirt picking up in the breeze. "Do you see them?"

She pointed frantically to the mist of balloons that had risen up into the skyline, twisting with the wind over the fountains. Their colors were picked up by the sun, heightening until the hues were near blinding, many of them changed colors or shapes, morphing in the glare of the sun that blinded in circles and Alice watched enthralled asthe wind picked them up over the hood of the Weasley Emporium's colorful building.

Her eyes trailed them, eventually landing to the building at the top of the hill.

"Harry?" She turned around expectantly, to the boy who was watching her bemusedly from the bench. "What's that building over there? The one that seems kind of lopsided?"

"Hmm?" He peered over the corner, to the looming tower of Gringotts. "Oh that one? That's Gringotts Bank. It's a wizarding bank. The only one, I think."

"Oh my." Alice took a couple more steps closer, head tilting as if to correct the buildings awkward tilt. "It looks like it'll fall with the breeze."

Harry shrugged. "It always does. I've never seen it fall before." He paused then. "But it has been attacked before."

"Why of course." Alice blinked at him. "I mean, with magic, I'm sure crime is much easier."

"You'd be surprised." Harry tilted his cap a little lower over his forehead. He had picked one up earlier, and Alice wasn't entirely sure why. She liked his hair and its tousled, skewed look. She supposed it didn't look any more tamed with the knit cap on, as the ends stuck out every which way from underneath it. And the dark blue and white stripes brightened out his eyes, so she supposed it wasn't a complete waste.

She wondered why he was so adamant about wearing it though.

"In my first year, the bank was robbed." He continued on, and beckoned her to follow him. "No one knew how it was possible, Gringotts is run by some…interesting characters."

"You've told me about them." She frowned as she followed, hands behind her back and a pout on her face. "But I can't remember what was so curious about them."

He smirked. "Oh," He began rather insightfully. "I'm sure you'll remember when you see them."

There were a couple witches and wizards already loitering on the large expansive walk up to the looming front doors.

Harry soldiered on past the people who all looked rather dismayed. Alice gave worried glances to all of them, to the young girl pleading with her mother for money, to the terse faces of all of the inhabitants. Harry had explained to her that this was a bad time for the wizarding world, but he really hadn't explained _why_. And Alice felt she didn't know enough about this strange, new reality to go up and tactlessly ask someone about it.

By the time she had broken out of her musings, Harry had already pushed past to the front doors some ways ahead of her.

"Wha—" She blinked. "Harry! Hold on!"

At his name many people turned to look, but were met with a closing door. Alice didn't notice the surprised glances her shouting had erupted, jogging up to the doors and pulling them with all her weight, which only gratified a small budge, and slipped inside.

"Oh," She gasped with a harsh intake of breath.

The bank was huge.

It sprawled up from floor to floor, much larger from the inside than the out. She had been into enough of the magical stores to realize that just because it looked small from the inside meant nothing to the actual width or height to a building. Gringotts was no exception. The large estate seemed to reach the sky as she craned her head up, desks and desks almost taller than her seemed to stretch on forever.

She choked in surprise as she realized what was sitting behind the desks.

"Goblins!" She whispered, taking in their reptilian features and large, hooked noses.

She spied Harry briskly walking ahead of her, and she quickly jogged up to him, almost dancing on her toes as she continued to look around rather then in front of her.

Harry came to one of the desks, and she wasn't very sure how he knew which was his.

"Harry?" She whispered quietly under her breath. The whole building, even though it was larger then anything she'd ever seen before aside from some old European castles and some really extensive government buildings, was more silent then anything she'd ever heard. Not even the scratching of quills permeated the air, and it seemed as if each of her footsteps was a shallow earthquake, even with her innate ability of silence that all vampires had for hunting.

"Yeah?" He seemed distracted, as he was signing some rather important looking documents.

She peered around nervously. "Are they…are they always so scary looking?"

He chuckled. "I'm pretty sure. I've never seen them looking anything besides unpleasant." He shriveled his nose and gave a small bout of laughter. "I suppose there's really no way to please a goblin."

"Lots of money?" Alice insightfully quarried.

"Well that could be right. They are greedy little creatures."

"Mister Potter." Said the goblin suddenly, and if he had been paying attention to their conversation, he made no move to retort about it, aside from pushing up his thick glasses. "Your key."

There was sarcasm in its voice though, as a clawed hand reached out across the desk, and Harry took it gratefully.

The wizard then turned, making a move to go down to the volts, and Alice immediately turned with him.

"Ah, you, vampire."

She turned around in surprise at the small, green magical creature.

"Err—Yes?" She began nervously.

It frowned at her. "Do you need your key as well? You need to give me your bank number and information."

"Ah—well, you see, I—" Alice started, quickly and unsure, before Harry pulled her.

"She's with me Griphook." He called to him.

The goblin looked, if possible, more contrary than usual, but only snorted in disdain. It didn't seem to give them much more thought, as it had already shuffled its papers and stood on its towering stool once more, calling to the long line of wizards and witches who were waiting shakily in silence. "Next?" Alice could hear loudly in the nasal-like qualities of its voice, as another party came up to stand trial.

"So what happens now?" Asked the young vampire excitedly. The whole thing seemed like such an adventure.

Harry grinned at her, even as the lights got dimmer and dimmer as they continued on. "You'll see."

"What vault you going to?"

Alice was shocked to notice that the scenery had changed from the marble flooring and sterile look of the front lobby to the dark and craggy rock of the tunnel ways.

"Vault 687." Said Harry quickly, looking around. But there was no one there.

"Ah." The goblin nodded as he started up the cart. "The Potter vault. In you go."

The two boarded, and the goblin began the trek down the sloping railroads. Alice sat and bounced lightly in excitement as the cart picked up speed. Truthfully, Harry had never been quite fond of the whole ordeal. It had lost its charm the third time or so, once he realized how sick it made him. There was something to be said at the sensation of open flight in a Quidditch field rather than the dark, enclosed dripping rocks under the bank. While both experienced much turbulence, one he greatly favored over the other.

By the time they had stopped, Alice seemed quite enthralled, hopping off and taking a look around. There really wasn't much to be seen aside from darkness, and the dim lighting of lamps that gave off just enough light to see the door number.

The goblin waited patiently as Harry fished out his key.

Meanwhile, Edward was beginning to become concerned.

Time alone usually didn't bother him, as he enjoyed the solace of only his own mind to listen to as few and far between, and this indulged in his own silent company whenever he could. However, being in a frighteningly new environment filled with dangers he certainly didn't know the boundaries of was not exactly what he had in mind.

After purchasing a book or two—Harry had found them a muggle to wizarding currency station, to which he and Alice readily swapped their dollars for knuts and galleons and sickles—he exited the immense housing of tomes to find that his company had seemed to have deserted him.

He supposed that really wasn't much of an issue, and he was trying to find a nice shady spot where the sun wouldn't catch his skin when he overheard something.

"It would hardly matter, anyway." A witch was saying quietly to her husband as he passed them by. "Potter'll surely—

"Genova, you certainly cant' be putting the issues of the wizarding world onto a sixteen year old _boy_—"

"And why ever not? He did it before, I don't see why he can't. For god sakes he's bloody Harry Potter—"

Edward was immediately caught by surprise at the usage of Harry's name, but the witch and her husband had already disappeared into the shifting seas of people and he could no longer pinpoint them.

He was stunned, but couldn't really understand why.

Harry was someone in this world, he was sure (he had been sure for a while, there was something about how he dodged all important questions about the wizarding world, always considering himself nothing entirely interesting in the great span of things) of it, and this only confirmed his suspicions.

But _how_, was the real question.

"687?" Alice read aloud. "Are vault numbers any significance?"

"The farther, the more well guarded." Harry explained quietly. He opened the vault and didn't bother to cast a lumos. "For example, my Uncle Sirius…" The boy paused then, and Alice could hear him gulp quietly and struggle for words. "His family's vault required a goblin's finger. It was too important to have a key."

"So these are family vaults?" Alice tilted her head. "Does family mean a lot in the Wizarding world?"

Harry paused at that, and seemed to struggle for an answer. "Well, it can. With purebloods it does, and also with a lot of the core traditions. For example, the really old families have vaults that are guarded by dragons."

"Dragons?" Alice whispered fiercely, amazement in her sparkling eyes. "Do you think we can see one?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Doubt it. Goblins wouldn't even let us _near _those vaults."

"Gosh," Alice began again with evident surprise in her voice, as they walked back into the cart. "Who would have one like that? Do you know anyone?"

"Oh sure." He nodded, pocketing the money he withdrew. "There's the Malfoy's, I'm sure. The Lestrange's, all the old pureblood families, really." He gave her a slight smile. "I'll tell you all about them someday."

"Okay." She nodded, secretly holding him to that promise.

She felt there was much he didn't tell her of this strange, intricate world.

By the time they found Edward, Alice could hardly wait to go the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, a store she had heard much raves about. Mainly from Harry, but also from the many people she could eavesdrop on. Alice had heard much with her sensitive ears, hushed whispers of concern, and an acknowledgeable wariness for the Alleyway parallel to this one, where she had seen dark cloaked figures slip into before.

"It's called _A History of Vegetarians_." Edward remarked, a hint of surprise in his voice as he flipped through it while they walked. "Apparently Vegetarian Vampires isn't a new topic."

"Of course not." Alice teased lightly. "How long have we been around? Think of how old some vampires get!"

"There's a whole society for them, right?" Harry asked candidly.

Alice nodded. "Yes, the Volturi. I thought you wrote a report on them? Or, let me guess, you learned nothing from it." She giggled airily at Harry's flushed face.

"Hey, I _did_. They live in Italy, and are kind of like royalty. But I'm supposing there's a lot more Vampires then just them, just like there are wizards that don't act in society."

"Those are called clans." Edward interrupted. "Or covens. We're a coven, but we like to consider ourselves more like family then a group of vampires in symbiosis."

Harry only nodded. He'd heard about the vampire society before from Alice, but never really had a chance to read up on the subject. (then again, he wasn't Hermione, who practically bent her schedule backwards for books) He assumed that the vampires and the wizards, while joined to the same magical world, did not move in the same circles. He had only heard of one wizard and vampire half-blood, which his book had made a small, and mostly worthless, footnote about.

He supposed that there were more magical vampires, like Alice, Edward, and Jasper. Harry wasn't sure if they were classified as magical, but they did have magical signatures and were able to use some sort of magic. For instance, Alice's seeing ability and Edward's Legilimency.

"You don't like the Volturi." Harry observed from their stiff posture. He'd seen himself do it on more then one occasion when explaining the wizarding political policies.

Edward bit his lip, before shaking his head. "No, not particularly. I don't like their ways of handling…" He paused to find the right words. "Safety issues."

Harry figured that prying wasn't the best idea, and instead pointed up the winding cobblestone walk.

"That's the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes." He said with a smile.

Alice sucked in a breath as the colorful building came into view. By far the tall tower had to have the most amount of people, mainly young children, all talking and laughing and causing a commotion, drawing the curious attention of many of those passing by. A miniature dragon was blowing fire onto popcorn as delighted children watched, signs changed colors, and explosions came out of the building.

"Why are you worrying about You-Know-Who?" Alice echoed aloud off of one of the signs, and Harry stood rigid. "You should be worried about U-No-Poo—the constipation sensation that's gripping the…the nation!" By the end of it Alice had fallen into inconsolable giggles.

Edward had stifled his own chuckle, but he was more concerned over Harry, who had lost his pallor entirely and was watching the sign unwaveringly with fluxuating horror.

While Alice continued to erupt into laughter, and busied herself with dashing up to the stores front doors, Edward wandered over to Harry. "Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

Harry snapped out of his reverie, looking quite sick. "Oh no, I'm fine." He gave a shaky laugh. "Let's just go inside, huh?"

The boy followed suit, and Alice, a ways ahead of them, had already danced up to the doors and pulled them open, quickly making her way inside. Edward mused upon the sign which had Harry so stricken. It didn't seem too out of the ordinary, a bit overtly humorous, yes, but Harry had laughed at vulgar notions he'd made before, so he supposed that really wasn't the issue. Perhaps it was the, you-know-who? What did that mean? Maybe it was some sort of political issue.

"Get your Pygmy Puffs! Pygmy Puffs, right here! Purple ones, pink pones, purpink ones! Who knows!" A red head was throwing around little animal-like creatures that were about the size of a palm to delighted children.

The store was utter chaos.

Objects were flying everywhere, items were being tried on, explosions went off, people were turned into canaries, girls were swooning, fireworks erupted, and Edward suddenly realized he was standing in a swamp, and he was quite certain he hadn't been before. A floating ear whizzed past him, and Edward watched in fascination as it continued on, before he realized it was being held up by a string from a boy on the second storey.

A girl beside him began to walk up the wall with a pair of sticky boots, another kid's head disappeared when he tried a hat, and a little girl was sticking her tongue out and watching it change colors. Edward was nearly overwhelmed by unfamiliar smells and the utter _taste_ of magic, loud voices and loud thoughts, and he tried to pinpoint the quite whispers of Harry's head.

He found it eventually, and began to focus on it. The ringing silence soon drowned out all the rest of the chaos in his head, and he was able to pinpoint the boy's location.

He found Harry talking to another redhead who looked the exact same as the one who had been throwing the small creatures at kids. He gave a double take, before realizing that yes, they were the same.

"Thanks Fred!" Harry was saying jovially, taking a small box that the other boy had handed to him.

The redhead waved him off. "Anything for an old friend, mate!"

Harry chuckled, before turning around as Edward approached.

"Is there a magical formula to duplicate yourself?" He asked, surprised. What an amazing spell, the vampire supposed, to make a copy of oneself. It was certainly useful for running such a large business.

Harry burst into laughter. "There's no spell. They're twins!"

"Oh!" Edward gave a chuckle, suddenly feeling rather lame. "I take it you know them?"

"Fred and George." Harry smiled with mirth, as if he was remembering fond memories. "They've been great friends to me since I came here." He snapped out of his daze to stare into Edward's eyes, and the vampire stood breathless in the face of the boys brilliant, bright eyes and lit face.

He didn't know what to say, as he stood restlessly in the middle of this store of magical wonders, children's laughter, anarchy all around them and a growing sensation creeping around him, but he knew he had to say _something_. Anything, to release the growing pressure inside him. "Harry," He gulped, and he noticed how Harry stirred when he said his name. "I—"

"Oh Harry come here, quick!"

The boy's attention was snapped away as his sister called out to him, and the moment was lost in the pandemonium.

"What are you so excited about now, Alice?" Harry asked mirthfully, as the two of them found her gasping at a small stand doused in pink.

Edward almost wanted to drop to the floor.

Bubbles of hearts erupted from the stand and popped in the air around the sign that read, "Wonderwitch", and beneath it, a large bowl filled with an assortment of what looked to be perfume bottles. Alice had one up to her eye, watching her reflection in the purple liquid as it distorted. Harry too, seemed to lose color in his face and make a move to puke.

"Those are love potions, Alice." He sighed exasperatedly.

Edward smirked. "Had a problem with those before, huh?"

"You could say that." Harry cowed, and snatched one up. Edward read over his shoulder at the bottle's back. _"Effective for twenty-four hours,_" It said in lacy love script, _"depending on the weight of the boy and attractiveness of the girl"_. There was something quite frank about it that made Edward laugh aloud.

The three had a wondrous time exploring the extensive shop and all its interesting products. Harry promised that one of these days the two of them would get around to using the Wildfire Whiz Bangs Fireworks collection the Weasley's had given him, and by the end of the day, Alice had managed to extract a promise that the two of them would get a tour of Hogsmeade as well.

Although Edward was left to impertinently wonder where he ad Harry stood now, as the younger boy had clearly shied away from any true interaction between the two of them, he was more concerned over the storm cloud which seemed to manifest over the boy's head.

He had gotten around to asking one of those redheads—he couldn't really tell the difference between the two—about Harry, and why people seemed to revere him.

"Well," The boy shifted his eyes. "I'm not very sure if he'll want me telling you this, seeing as though you don't already know..."

He drifted off at that.

"Please." Edward cut off. "I'm just concerned for him."

"You could say he's kind of an important bloke around here." The boy stopped, before erupting into laughter. "A little more than important, I guess. I won't tell you all of it, but a lot of people call him our savior."

The redhead didn't say anything more then that, and Edward was left to wonder what it all meant.

Harry woke up and felt like a bludger killed his head.

And then realized that it did.

"Gryffindor lost, mate." Said Ron gloomily from beside him.

"What?" Harry blinked, suddenly unaware of who he was. Ron blinked at him owlishly. "Sorry, I'm a bit out of sorts."

"You got hit by a bludger in the game, remember?" Ron filled him in. "Anyway, we lost by a landslide. It was terrible. I'm glad I wasn't awake for it."

Harry clearly remembered waking up that morning—or maybe not that morning, judging from how long he slept—with an intense feeling of loneliness. Edward had stayed longer after Alice had left, and the two had discussed mainly Edward's book and the magical world, and Harry tried as best he could to answer the vampire's questions without revealing anything about himself.

The majority of his problems came from the fact that he was attempting to live a double life.

On one hand, he could spin the wizarding world to be an unproblematic beautiful sensation of colors and quirky spells that were only used for washing household items or odd things like shoes that walk up walls. In reality, like the mortal world, spells were for killing, for thoughtless puppets, for reeling in pain. The world he lived in was composed of purebloods and their aristocratic features, a crooked creature with a flat nose and slit red eyes, death eaters, the dark mark, _horcruxes_.

Would Alice be so enthralled with this world of beauty if she realized just what it really was?

Immediately his thoughts turned to Edward, their brief meeting of hands above parchment, a slight brush of ice and Harry was still remembering it.

He was remembering it instead of playing Quidditch, instead of hunting for who was behind Ron's attack, or Katie's, instead of tracking Malfoy. Instead of learning about his worst adversary, the man he was inexplicably tied to in destiny.

Harry shook himself out of his reverie, trying to turn his attention back to Ron, who was watching him curiously.

"You alright, mate?" His friend called out worriedly.

"I'm fine." Harry insisted.

He snapped his fingers.

Dobby popped into existence next to him, wide eyes and droopy ears. "Yes, master Potter?"

"Please don't call me that." He said more by habit then anything else. "Dobby, I need you and Kreacher to do me a favor."

"Would yous like Dobby to call him' ere too?"

"Err—no." Harry blanched at the thought of that vile house elf in Hogwarts. "That's alright. But would you tell him that I need the two of you to watch Draco Malfoy for me?"

"Draco Malfoy?" Dobby echoed aloud, and if possible, his eyes grew wider. "Yes Master Potter, I'll tell him right away—

"Dobby!" The small elf paused in disappearing away at the sound of his master's voice. "Make sure he knows absolutely _not _to let Malfoy know."

"Of course Master Potter!" He yelped, before dissapparating away.

Ron and Harry were released a few days later from the tedious care of Madame Pomphrey, more due to Ron's incessant moaning than any actual recovery. Luckily for Harry—or perhaps, not very lucky, seeing as though a couple weeks ago he'd been dying for a night at Hogwarts, but the yearning had lessened considerably since meeting friends in Forks—he was allowed to stay the night over in the Gryffindor dorms. The atmosphere hadn't changed much, and he wondered if he had been overreacting at being misplaced due to his safety this entire time.

Breakfast was, as it usually was with Ron and Hermione at his sides, a lively affair.

Harry was currently reaching for an unhealthy amount of marmalade when the post flocked into the Great Hall. Harry recognized Hermione's fluffed owl as it spun around the Gryffindor table, flapping its wings to perch on Hermione's shoulder, dropping the paper in front of her before twittering away.

Ron leaned across Harry to catch a glimpse at the headline.

"Honestly." He snorted. "Vampire rights movement. Isn't there something a little more interesting they could cover?"

"Vampire Rights?" Harry echoed with surprise.

"The whole debate is very exciting." Hermione interrupted with a contemptuous look at Ron, who was shoveling his face with inordinate amounts of apple pie. "To think; vampires! Werewolves! How many other creatures are there in the magical world that don't come in contact with us? Imagine…"

"You're getting too into this, Hermione."

"You're just prejudiced, Ronald!" Hermione snapped back. "Everyone should be allowed the basic rights! Things like, education, freedom of speech, the right to property—

"Education?" Ron chortled. "The last thing I want is some bloodsucking vampire to come in to Hogwarts and bite me while I'm sleeping!"

"I honestly don't think they'd want to bite _you_, Ron." Harry smiled mirthfully.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Who's to say they'll suck your blood?"

"_Vampires_," Ron emphasized. "I'm pretty sure it's in the definition. And anyway, more then just vampires, creatures in general I suppose. You know, there's a reason laws are so strict around them. Most of them are dangerous, Hermione."

"Well, what about giants then? Hagrid went to Hogwarts!"

"_Half_-giant." Ron corrected.

"Doesn't matter!" Hermione insisted. "Anyway, _no one_ said that vampires were coming to Hogwarts. It's just a debate, for Merlin's sake. " She huffed daintily before turning in the opposite direction, where Seamus and Dean were having a contest as to who could shoot more cereal down Lavender Brown's low cut shirt.

This appalled her even more, and she abruptly stood from the table, huffing.

The student body could find Harry maundering about on the eighth floor, one of those hallways that were sometimes accessible depending on the mood of the staircases. The flooring was marble and dusted, although Harry wasn't surprised. He imagined the last to set foot here may have been from before he was born. Hogwarts was illogical like that, and it was a trait he liked about the castle.

He wondered if he should probably make his way to Dumbledore's office, seeing as though the hour was getting late and he wasn't supposed to be in the castle this long after dinner. He wondered if, aside from the fact he could understand the logic, if he really understood why such protective measures were enforced upon him.

On one side, he immensely enjoyed Edward's company. He couldn't compare it to Ron and Hermione's, perhaps because lately the two would really rather hang out with each other…in a dark broom closet or corridor… and he thought of Edward differently then he did of Hermione and Ron.

On the other, Forks reminded him of everything he hated about the Muggle world. The mundane, irritating cycles the world worked in. Boring classes without magic to bring them to life that all children, regardless of their interests, must take. Reminded him of why he dreaded returning every summer to the Dursleys, made a deep wrench that coiled in the pit of his stomach.

And more importantly, he thought of his future, and of its abrupt ending that he was quite aware could be the outcome. How much it frightened him to know that only he had the power to take down who could easily be considered the strongest, most powerful being alive.

And he could remember those claret red eyes, puissant and horrifyingly bright, russet and open until he could see the fragments of icy blue that had once framed those eyes. Tom Riddle, burning ephemeral at the edges, a blurry image in the back of his retina of where the young Slytherin Prince stood backdropped against musty green walls, a smudge of vibrant red where Ginny's limp, lifeless hair pooled like flowers of blood on the shallow ocean beneath them. Their incomparable brilliance as he cruelly etched his name with his wand, the mundane characters morphing into the terrifying whisper that no one dared to speak, so bright everything darkened until nothing but the eyes were decipherable through the dim veil.

When they turned to him in the graveyard, as he struggled for breath against stone guards that pinned him with spears, Wormtail at his feet scampering around like the rat he was, glinting silver masks that encircled them. Cedric's cooling body, head rolled to the other side, and Voldemort's estranged screams as he emerged from the cauldron.

Dust to dust, infinity to infinity, wisps of light curling into the atmosphere from brother wands, a whimsical, capricious smile of a woman with red hair, then, that same red as it erupted like spitting fire from Dumbledore's wand, a tumble of flaming dragon as he met Voldemort's. The Dark Lord staring down at him impassively, saying something he couldn't understand.

"_You thought you destroyed them all, Harry? You've forgotten the most important—_

Harry gasped and sputtered to life as a spray of water splattered onto his face.

The fountain giggled coyly and put its hand to its mouth to hide the smile. Harry rubbed his eyes warily and realized he had fallen asleep on a bench in the corridor he had been wandering in. There was a fountain in the center of the room, a young woman dressed in Greek robes holding a large pitcher, swaying it around as if she was tending to a garden. The open balcony had long tattered curtains that were ratty with stains and holes in them from a long lifetime, and didn't cover the large expanse like they were supposed to. Instead, they hung uselessly as the sunset poured from the large gaps.

Harry shook out his hair as he stood, holding his head, and more importantly, his pounding headache, trying to forget his recurring nightmare.

Harry flooed back into his home with an exhausted sigh. Charms had really taken it out of him today, and his backpack was loaded with books for his latest Transfiguration essay, as well as his History of Magic essay.

He doubted he would get any sleep this night, but he trudged up to his room regardless, used a quick spell to pull his blinds of the glass doors to his balcony, and set his bag among the littered clothing and random shoes and socks that inhabited his floor. He crawled into the covers, and stared into the darkness of his ceiling.

There was no sound, and no light, other than the clock Hermione had gotten him that stood, on his dresser. The sprinkled light that seeped from the fringes of his dark curtains told him Forks was alive, and, undoubtedly he should be getting to his Muggle class.

Even with the thought of Edward, the looming crimson eyes dragged him into restless sleep.

His dreams were worlds without words, a metaphorical music which brought nothing but glimpses of moving lips and wind stricken hair, tenebrous eyes such a deep crimson they rimmed the color of mulberries, and he began to wonder why even in sleep they haunted his dreams.

A woman with poppy colored hair, backtracking slowly with a staggered, graceless quality and even then her countenance never seemed to waver, hands and thin fingers fluttering against the wood of her wand. Voices from downstairs, and her emerald eyes as she turned to him, frightened.

The figure stood in the doorway, shrouded in darkness yet Harry could still make out the morello of his eyes, that sick twist of stratosphere blue that still lingered behind the scarlet red. The blue that matched the freckled specks in his own, coming closer, closer, closer—

"_Not Harry, please, not Harry—_

"_Stand aside, woman—_

"_Please…"_

Avada Kedavra eyes opened with a sharp intake of breath as Edward glanced worriedly down at his companion.

The dreams were disfigured and Edward could peer at them as if squinting through a misted mind. Yet there was a salient presence of fire-bright orange that he could make out, the shouting, the hooded figure, and most importantly, _the eyes_. He didn't know why Harry's mind focused in so clearly on them, but the vertigo disrupted enough to present a clear focus of the sky colored coruscate that dotted truculent eyes.

He hadn't meant to disturb the boy, but it seemed the young wizard was in desperate need of an intervention from his nightmares, which were clear enough to call down to him from the foyer.

Alice was dancing about, playing with stargazers and lilies, which giggled back at her and coyly, shifted their petals. They had brought Rosalie along; a move, which Edward still could not be sure, was a good one. The wintry flaxen-haired woman eyed the scenery warily—they had certainly explained the house with great detail, and the pure, breathtaking imaginative reality did not come as a surprise to her—but there was a suscpiciously enamored look in her eye as she spied the living room.

A willy wonka-like wonder seized her quite suddenly, and Edward was surprised to find her interest in all the magical plants.

He would have stayed down and enjoyed his sister's company, if it had not been for the fact he was keenly attuned to his companion up the stairs. He dismissed himself quietly—neither of the two taking notice—and walked up the stairs, to the dimly lit hallway which stretched on either side. He took the left, and past door after door until he got the end of the hallway, where one door was wrenched open.

Harry's room was entirely swathed in darkness, and his eyes adjusted quickly to see the lump in the bed. Long dark stretches of thick cloth covered an entire wall, which he assumed were the floor to ceiling windows. The boy himself reminded him amusingly of a young wastrel, with his sleepy mumbles and askew dark hair that formed a rather formidable bedhead. If he wasn't aware of the magnitude of Harry's dreams, he'd have sat there chuckling at the sight.

Instead, he sat down on the bed, and, with gentle prodding of his cold fingers, pulled the mind out of the deep limbic system.

"Edward!" He gasped and sat upright.

The vampire smiled sheepishly. "Sorry… It was just, you were having a bad dream, and I could feel your need to get out of it, so I came up here to see if I could help."

Harry blinked in confusion, rubbing green eyes that he now knew was the color of a spell. "You could hear my mind?"

Edward nodded. "Was I not supposed to?"

The young wizard frowned and squinted down at his lap, bleary eyes unfocusing and focusing in a reeling sense of vertigo. "No… my Occlumency shields are supposed to hold through my dreams."

"Must've been a really bad dream, then."

Harry only nodded mutely, unable to bring himself to explain to the vampire, without being entirely truthful "I dream about them, sometimes. My parents, I mean. I never got to meet them, but for some reason, I can see the scene in my dreams."

"When they died?"

Another nod, and a thick gulp.

Edward watched curiously as a tumult of emotions washed across the boy's face, and he wasn't quite sure what he could do to help. He wanted to understand him better, to unravel the mysteries (and, secretly, he wished he really could read Harry's mind like everyone else's sometimes, he had forgotten how challenging getting to know such closed off people was) to hold that frail body and understand why those eyes were so god damn green. Why people discussed him as if he was their begrudging hero. And, most important of all, why he could still hear the resonating hiss of words that Alice had seen, restless and uncomfortable after each vision.

What was Avada Kedavra?

"Harry," He began, and the brunette looked up sharply. "There's a spell I want to know about, I've been meaning to ask you—

A shriek near killed his ears from downstairs, followed by a loud crash and another ear-wrenching cry of harpie-like decibles, and the two jumped.

"Rosalie…" Edward sighed, and got up to find what, exactly, his sister was screaming about now.

"Rosalie?" Harry asked immediately, shaking out his hair and hoping that whatever he had limply grabbed last night was presentable enough to walk and meet the couture, lavish sister of Edward's. He looked down as they walked through the hall. He was wearing a Wizarding Whizard Wheezes shirt which manifested as a dizzying swirl that continued to move inward and inward, and plaid pajama pants. Could be worse.

"Yeah, I brought my sister along. She wanted to see the house, and you know, meet you."

"Great…" Harry grumbled puckishly under his breath.

The blonde girl was currently perched on one of his stools, a broken vase, a spitting purple striped cat, and large tentacle like vines among the scene of the crime. With a wary sigh, Harry immediately banished the tentacles with a stinging curse, and they retreated with haste back into the blockaded sunroom, where they covered the walls incessantly. He then fixed the plate, levitated it back onto the counter, and pocketed his wand. After a glare to the cat, it stopped spitting and yowling to maunder off in anger.

"Hi." He said lamely after moments of silence of watching Cheshire's swishing tail, and Rosalie's curious gaze at him. "I'm Harry Potter."

She sneered, perhaps at his dreadfully plebian name, or his shirt. "Rosalie Cullen."

"Don't be mean, Rosie." Alice called from the living room, where she had caught the cat by the scruff and was stroking it with much zest as it made a contrary look. "Or Harry won't get you any presents from the wizarding world."

"I'm not being mean." She said innocuously, hopping down from the chair with more grace and elegance then Harry had ever seen. "It's nice to meet you, Harry, Edward talks about you all the time."

If the vampire could flush, he would have done so. Instead, he looked rather sheepish and embarrassed as Harry flushed incarnadine for the both of them.

"Good things, I hope." He grinned meekly.

She nodded with an air of approval. "Yes, of course." With a wicked grin, she added, "Although he never mentioned how _adorable_ you were."

Harry wasn't sure if he should find this insulting, as he was aware young women usually considered bunnies, most fluffy doe-like creatures, certain arrangements of pastel colors, and baby's toes to be adorable. While on the other hand, so were cute children, and young women with pretty hair. Well, so either way, it was kind of insulting.

But he certainly did not protest aloud. "Thanks… I think."

Her lips curved into a smile, as if he had only fueled the thought.

"Anyway," Charmingly, she turned to her brother with a swirl of saffron colored hair. "Why don't me and Harry take a walk, and you and Alice could… prepare dinner, or something."

"We can't eat food." Edward interrupt flatly.

"No one asked you!" Rosalie spat back, before grinning back at Harry and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand. "Now," She held out her arm so he could loop it.

He did so with lethargic movements.

"Don't those bushes out there look pretty?"

They didn't as the color came from the weeds around them. He supposed that in some ways it could be considered fascinating, but he was more aware of the fact Rosalie was attempting to pull him out of the house. He would have resisted, aside from the stories he had heard acutely from her siblings which made him continue, entirely subdued, and followed her. He certainly didn't want to leave a bad impression on any of the Cullen family. Perhaps he thought that way because he was such good friends with Edward, and Edward valued his family almost above everything.

"Yes, they're very pretty in this time of year, aren't they?" He smiled tightly as she pulled him along.

"Oh, absolutely." Harry supposed he could see the charming qualities of her that Edward would sometimes describe to him. The mischievous machinations of her mind and her coy and amusing duplicity.

* * *

_I feel bad that I haven't updated in a while, so I got an extra long quote. (I agree with Danny here. Vampire vs Werewolf...Werewolf. Vampire vs Werewolf with jetpacks? hell yeah werewolf!) _

_**FEEL THE WRATH OF DAN BERGSTEIN'S AMAZINGNESS:**_

_Edward offers Bella an apology. He didn't know that Victoria was going to strike again, and he feels awful for leaving Bella unprotected. He especially feels bad for making her turn to the werewolves for support. He describes them as "immature, volatile, and the worst things out there besides Victoria." Whoa! Back the truck up._

_First, werewolves rule._

_Second, does Edward honestly think werewolves are evil? The same werewolves who don't kill innocent people? The same werewolves who saved Bella's life while he was being a doofus? The same werewolves who have more humanity and compassion in their tails than Edward and all the Cullens have put together? The same werewolves who aren't afraid to fight, and, in fact, go looking for a evil instead of running away from it? The same werewolves who have unmentioned jetpacks? Are those the werewolves that Eddie thinks are so horrible? I wonder who else is on his "worst things" list? A few guesses:_

_1. Victoria_  
_2. Werewolves_  
_3. Kittens_  
_4. Tom Hanks_  
_5. Firefighters_  
_6. Joyfulness_

_Third, Edward ran away to kill himself after learning from an unreliable source that Bella was dead. I'd consider that action to be both immature and volatile, wouldn't you? People in immature glass houses shouldn't throw volatile stones, Eddie._

_Fourth, werewolves rule._


	7. Skeleton Boy

_you know you're happy for an update! And so am I! I'm also armed with more inspiration (hinthinthinthint) by this move that just came out called The Town. Not only is Ben Affleck sexy, but I really think I like laundromats. Anyway. CHOCOLATE FROGS! (that one's a reminder for me. i'm not like... shouting dumb things out randomly. I would...never...do that...)_

_

* * *

_

_l-l_

_right by my feet lay broken glasses,_

_swept from the walls,_

_drips on my shoulder,_

_I gotta see it through_

_l-l_

_x. Friendly Fires_

"You can call me Rosie, by the way." She smiled beatifically once they got out of earshot. Also, she happened to let go of his hand, which he was immensely pleased by.

"Uh, okay." Harry immediately wondered how one was supposed to respond to such a rambunctious character, slightly surprised by the fact that she hadn't the slightest interest in the fact that he was a teenage boy and she was a seriously attractive girl (and, subconsciously, even more surprised by the fact that this did nothing for him) and mused how Ron would react when he told him that he took a walk in a garden with the vampire equivalent of a super model. Had he the chance to fully immerse himself in this humorous daydream, he'd have realized Ron most likely didn't know what a super model was.

But alas.

"Anyway, how are you liking Forks?"

"It's okay, I suppose." Harry eyed her warily. Sure, Alice and Edward loved the girl, but they hadn't skimped out on the terror stories centered around the luscious blonde, mostly to do with a very temperamental disposition and some really angry cat fights (the kind that didn't involve ripping clothes, sadly) resulting in one vicious reputation. "How do you like it?"

She looked at him oddly, as if she hadn't been expecting the question. "It's okay."

He shifted uncomfortably.

"So, have you met anyone else yet?"

Harry shook his head. "Just Edward, and Alice."

Rosalie nodded, before grinning cheekily. "Jasper and Emmett wanted to meet you too—but I butted them out. The boys can get really rowdy some times and I just wanted to talk to you, you know?"

"Yeah." No, he didn't know, actually. And yeah, he was creeped out a bit.

He was nervously tottering between ducking what could be either a punch to the gut or an attack to his neck, both of which seemed the more plausible outcome of a walk by himself with Rosalie—a woman who, up until now, he figured was the stuff of nightmares.

"Well I'll make this really quick."

She stopped abruptly by the rose fences, which had been tended to carefully by the previous tenant of the house. Their sweet smell was long lost in the crisp autumn air, the trees around them turning brighter in their colors as the sunset.

Rosalie herself seemed to blend into the beauty of the afternoon, sparkling blonde hair and big yellow eyes, chiffon scarf tucked under her chin.

"What do you think of Edward?"

Harry let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.

"He's a cool chap. I never thought we'd get along so well. You know, vampire and stuff I guess…" A look crossed her face and he nervously backtracked. "I mean, he's fun to hang around with. One of my good friends, I suppose." The term seemed to taste like dust on his tongue—like it didn't fully, or even remotely, cover the relationship they had.

But then, Harry didn't know really what to call him. He didn't feel like this with Ron or Neville. He didn't get flustered when they woke him up from bad dreams, eyes so close to his and nose almost touching.

"Does him being a vampire weird you out?"

Harry blinked furiously. "Wha—no." Funny enough, the thought hadn't even really crossed his mind. "In the Wizarding world, vampires aren't really considered all that different."

"Really?" Rosalie tilted her head curiously. Like Edward, she probably hadn't ever been to any Wizarding places, and hadn't strayed far from her own coven.

"Yeah. I mean, the ground's keeper at my school is a half giant…"

Rosalie looked mildly interested, but mostly like she hadn't yet approached the subject she wanted, but didn't know how to divulge into it.

"So, Edward's cool right? You like him?"

"Sure, I like him." The moment the words moved past his mouth, they felt weird.

Rosalie looked pleased, but Harry missed the look as he dazedly brought his finger to his lips, as if he expected them to by numb from the cold or something.

"Oh look," Rosalie began coolly. "I think Alice is about to get attacked by your monster-plant. Perhaps we should rescue her?"

Harry whipped his head around to see Alice shriek and slam a wicker chair onto one of the grappling tentacles.

He followed the blonde into the house, musing about the strange feeling in his stomach.

xXx

Today was Saturday, sadly not a Hogsmeade weekend, but Harry was pleased nonetheless. The cold was crisp and lined the dulled branches of trees, backdropped by a dim grayscale sky. Harry loved days like these, with a comfy scarf wrapped around his neck and wool mittens on his hands.

The morning sun made the day a prime candidate to get the remains of his Yule shopping done—he'd yet to purchase anything for Edward, or for that matter, Alice. The thought suddenly filled him with dread as he stretched languidly in his bed. They had a rather large family, right? He counted in his head with rapid trepidation pooling in the pit of his stomach. Jasper, that was Alice's mate, right? And Rosalie, and that one guy who's real burly. And their parents—Carlisle, and… Esme?

Harry hadn't the slightest idea, and before the panic could really set in, he stepped into a pair of battered jeans discarded on his floor, pulled a better looking shirt over his head than the one he slept in, and toed on his trainers as he wrapped a Gryffindor scarf around his neck.

First things first, he needed to buy more groceries, considering his lack thereof in his refrigerator. Contrary to popular belief, he did indeed need sustained nutrients to live, and not just a broomstick and a wand, as his housemates were inclined to believe.

The grocery store was humid, and the air conditioner loud enough to drown out all thought. The sticky humidity that defined Forks, Washington luckily, did not make it past the automatic doors.

He had been perusing through the cookie aisle, as his knack for sweets had never really quite left him, when someone bumped into him.

"Oh, sorry I—"

The girl, who had ear phones dangling from her head and was in the midst of dragging up the last of the Peppridge Farm sugar cookies from the back of the aisle when she had backed up into him.

"It's not problem—" She turned around, and Harry felt his face drop.

Bella Swan.

"Oh!" She blinked. "You're the new kid."

"I thought you were the new kid too." He pointed out, rather spitefully. But he couldn't help it. Today wasn't a good day, and the last thing he needed was to play around with Bella Swan, girl wonder.

"Well, yeah." She smiled limply. "You're friends with Edward, right?"

"Uh, you could say that."

"What's he like?"

"Pretty normal bloke, I suppose." He answered warily.

She tilted her head. "…Bloke? You wouldn't happen to be British, would you?"

"Err—yeah." He backed away slowly, deciding he was done before she pried anymore. "Just moved. Uh, I've got to go… pay now."

The young wizard immediately made for the checkout line, where a dreary, droopy eyed cashier made slow work of his sparse groceries. The entirety of the five minutes were spent darting suspicious glances of the last whereabouts of Bella Swan, which was around aisle seven.

Afterwards, he was making his way out when a familiar form waved to him.

Rosalie Cullen, accompanied by Emmet Cullen, was hovering near a rather sleek looking car. The former of the two had been looking rather contrary at the tall, burly looking man before she had noticed Harry. She was carrying a magnitude of bags—most likely for Esme, Harry thought, as Alice had explained how much Esme enjoyed cooking even though none of her family could eat it—when something dropped from the top of it.

"Oh, goodness." She frowned, as what looked to be a ticket of some kind fluttered to the ground.

The flaxen haired woman looked up and gave Harry a wan smile. "Hello there Harry, this is my boyfriend, Emmett. Emmett, say hello."

"Pleasure." Said Harry, not knowing what else to do. His hands were full of shopping bags.

Emmett laughed, and grabbed Harry in the largest bear hug Harry had ever had, accompanied by some extremely enthusiastic back clapping.

"So this is the kid I keep hearing about!" Emmett pulled away. "Is it true you're really a wizard?"

Harry grinned, refreshed by someone who was genuinely interested in magic, and not just the fact that he was the boy who lived.

"Yes, that's true."

Emmett brightened. "Dude, can I see some?"

Harry pulled out his wand from his waistband, and pondered what to do. Meanwhile, Rosalie was attempting to struggle the bags out of one arm so she could bend down and grab the fallen ticket. Instead, Harry cleared his throat.

"_Wingardium Leviosa," _

The ticket floated, faltering a bit, before it was right in reach for Emmett's hand. The guy looked like he was a four year old who just got a Firebolt for Christmas.

"Fucking awesome." Were the vampire's words of wisdom.

Harry grinned roguishly.

"Why thank you, Harry!" Said Rosalie, looking quite charmed.

The two offered to give him a ride back home, which Harry was immensely grateful for. The ride back was enthralling for the large vampire, as he quickly interrogated Harry about the wizarding world. Rosalie, in the passenger seat, did so as well. Most of Emmett's questions were centered around Quidditch, a sport that he had taken a liking to after Edward had explained it to him.

Harry was in the process of retelling an especially amusing tale involving Fred and George Weasley, a couple bludgers, and Draco Malfoy. During one of his previous years, during a scrimmage with Slytherin, Fred and George had made a sport entirely out of trying to hit the blonde with the assortment of balls that could be used in Quidditch. They almost could've succeeded with the Quaffle, had Flint not stopped them.

"You have such a charming house, Harry." Rosalie nodded, as if in approval.

"Thank you." He said sincerely, for lack of anything better to say.

He opened the door, and Cheshire immediately made for a break through his legs. Harry let him go, not too concerned.

Meanwhile, Emmett and Rosalie both watched the thing streak through the lawn and into the forest.

"What was that?" Rosalie gaped.

"It was either a really large cat or quite a small tiger." Said Emmett.

"It's my cat—err, Kneazle." Harry explained. "A magical cat. I got that one by turning it into a cat from a plate."

If Harry thought Emmett had been charmed by his short display of magic before, he was in for a surprise as he stared around the room in amazement. The amount of magic contained in one single house seemed to amaze him beyond belief.

He spent the majority of his time attempting to get a rise out of the Venomous Tentacula, which in retaliation, at one point emerged from its spot in the shade to reach its red tentacles in an attempt to grapple at the vampire, who easily pinned it down.

Meanwhile, Rosalie was inspecting his magnitude of potions ingredients to the ratio of his actual edible food.

"Wormwood?" She said aloud, reading the labels. "Mandrake Root? Spikenard?" The list went on, and became more dangerous the further one descended into the depth of his crisper.

"They're potions ingredients." He said by way of explanation.

She nodded absently.

Teaching Emmett Quidditch was certainly one of the highlights of the day. The vampire was a perfect Beater, practically defined the meaning of the word. He was absolutely excellent, nearly smashing a nearby tree with the force of his swing. The bludger took it like a champ, gargling and running around for more.

Rosalie, however, was a more difficult challenge.

She had the body of a chaser, but getting her on the broom was incredibly hard.

"I'll fall." She said, flatly.

Harry chuckled. "You're a vampire! You guys have like, the best balance I've ever seen."

She sniffed in response.

"Don't be such a prude, Rosie!" Said Emmett, somewhere in the vicinity of twenty feet above Harry's shoulder.

"Shut up jerk!" Was her response.

Eventually he coaxed her onto his spare Comet 290, as Emmett was already using his Cleansweep Seven. She wasn't a bad flier, although she did mostly lean to the left. The two enjoyed themselves right up until they had to leave. Emmett even extracted a promise from Rosalie to return soon with the rest of the clan, and attempt an actual game of Quidditch. Harry wasn't sure if it would be a good idea, considering the amount of muggles around the area (but… if one couldn't get away with it in a rural town like Forks, there really was no hope for anywhere else)

Harry remembered that there were other things he had to do today, like finish up shopping, and he quickly made his way to the floo.

It wasn't long until he was entering Gringotts in hurried paces, only to find that he wasn't the only one who had the bright idea to get some shopping done. And people say that half the alley was closed.

Harry ended up having to wait in line with the rest of the fellows standing around. Most had cloaks buttoned up to the throats, puttering about and looking altogether angry as the Goblins continued to call a string of names. And yet somehow, the intimidation of Gringotts was not lost, as no one spoke a word, and the main hall was still as silent as a ghost's whisper.

He took a seat on a nearby bench, next to a brown-haired boy reading a book.

Harry, not being a particular people person, made no move to talk to the boy, opting to stare sightlessly into the rows and rows of floors above him. It seemed as if Gringotts ascended into the sky, and Harry took the moment to once again be floored by the wonders of magic.

Sometimes he thought of what his life would be like had he never discovered he was magical. Would he still be sitting, alone, in a cupboard under a staircase, fiddling with plastic outcasts of Dudley's toy army? Going to that dreadful school, unable to get grades better then Dudley's C/D average? If he had never discovered the wonders he could really do, never seen the unending life of Gringott's ceiling?

As if sensing his somber mood, the boy beside him shifted, and turned a page in his book. Harry noticed that it was about the Vampire war of 1812.

"Interested in Vampires?" He didn't know what possessed him to strike up the topic, but the boy beside him smiled thinly.

"Something like that."

Harry caught a glimpse of his twinkling red eyes.

Ah.

The man next to him, which reminded Harry strangely of Lucius Malfoy, coughed.

"They're fascinating creatures." The boy went on to say.

Harry hummed in agreement, before turning to the other boy. "Are you part of one of the Clans, then?"

The vampire blinked at him, and he sort of rambled in apologetic explanation. "Err—I mean, I've never met many vampires. I sort of assumed they kept to themselves."

"An apt assumption." The vampire inclined his head, before holding out a hand. "Alec."

"Harry." He shook it, unsurprised by the icy coldness. "Pleasure to meet you."

"The same." Briefly, the red eyes met his, before the man returned to his book.

Unsure of how else to make conversation with the charming, regal looking vampire before him, Harry tried to drudge up something he knew about Vampires aside from the fact that a few were magical and had special abilities (he assumed, quite correctly, that this topic wasn't known by many, and could get him in trouble) and came upon an old conversation with Hermione. "So, what do you think about the whole Vampire rights thing?"

Alec looked mildly uninterested, but there was a flash of _something _in his eyes.

"Well I've always had the standing that if a creature is sentient enough to read, they are certainly entitled to rights." He flipped a page in his book, sneering. "Of course, I'd rather not attend one of those pathetic excuses for an education system."

"Not to keen with the humans, I presume?" Harry asked cheekily.

"Considering the fact that my IQ exceeds most of theirs? Certainly."

"But if the vote passes Wizengamot, won't all magical Vampires be attending Wizarding schools?"

"I suppose. We _are _part of the magical world." Alec sniffed. "Personally, I'd rather eat a Doxy egg then be stuck with moronic, pureblood fools like the Malfoys."

Harry grinned at that.

"Lord Caius?" A goblin some feet away questioned aloud to the mostly silent crowd.

The man who could have been Lucius Malfoy's brother stood then, as did Alec.

The young vampire gave him a slight smile. "Until next time, Harry."

"Same." He nodded.

xXx

Alice lead herself into Harry's house, taking the time to look at the wondrous moving pictures that decorated his foyer.

Her favorite, of a redheaded woman and a man with glasses, clearly in love, smiling at the camera as birds took flight behind them. Probably in Paris, or some wonderful European place like that. Alice sighed. How romantic.

Edward was making his way up the stairs, locking the Audi behind him as Cheshire sprinted out of the house, making his getaway once more. The purple cat never got very far, considering that it was too fat to successfully hunt, and loved Alice and Harry too much to ever consider actually leaving.

Edward left the door open for it, as Alice tiptoed around the house, spinning in circles as she called Harry's name aloud.

"Looks like he's not here." She sighed, looking rather disappointed.

Edward shrugged. "We could wait around for him to get back." He wasn't at school, so it wasn't like he'd be gone for very long.

Edward was already making his way to the magical bookshelf, perusing through the titles. One, a magical creature encyclopedia, caught his eye. He pulled it out, along with one entitled, _"Jinxes and Curses for everyday use". _

Alice however, was not enthused.

She was currently eying the fireplace with varying degrees of interest.

"Say, Edward…

"No." He said flatly, not even needed to read her mind to know what she was thinking.

"But don't you want to see it again?"

"Doesn't matter." Edward flipped a page, even though he wasn't really reading. "We don't even know how to use it!"

"Think of all the things we could do!"

"No."

"Come _on_, Edward!" Alice pulled his arm. "What's the worst that could happen?"

There were a dozen, completely certifiable answers he could have given her, all of which died on his lips at the thought of buying an actual, decent present for Harry. Sure, he could run over to the local clothing apparel store that was hip with all the jocks and cheerleaders at his school, and buy him something he'd most likely appreciate just for the fact that Edward thought of him.

_Or_, he could buy him something he'd actually enjoy, like, say, something magical.

What, exactly, Edward hadn't the slightest idea.

However, he was sure that he would think of something if he could just see those shops a second time. And that fact, coupled with Alice's big pleading eyes, made him sigh in defeat.

"Alright, but just this once."

She squealed, and made to grab a large amount of powder, and ushered him in.

Edward was immediately skeptical, as he remembered the last time they used the floo they did so one at a time, but couldn't get a chance to say something as Alice was already starting to speak to the fireplace. (Hah, speaking to the fireplace. A year ago, if someone told him that he was going to be listening to his sister speak to a fireplace trying to go half way across the globe he'd have laughed hysterically at the person who obviously belonged in the psychiatric ward of Princeton-Plainsboro)

"Ah—Err… Diagonal Alley!"

Said Alice.

Incorrectly.

Edward knew this wasn't going to be good.

And he was right, as the two of them were spat out in some dank looking room with skeletons hanging from the ceilings. Rusty bottles and dried leaves that smelt strange were hung from their roots upside down, Star anis scattered over the cutting boards, the remains of what seemed to be worms, and butcher knives the size of his left arm made him immediately regret following Alice with her ridiculous plan.

"Edward?" She breathed. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!"

Edward snarled in response.

Alice, however, was already poking her nose at the variety of different things lying around.

"Is this a…" Her eyes widened as she spied what looked to be some sort of organ in a yellow liquid jar. "heart?" She scanned the page next to it. "Oooh, zebra spleen. Fascinating."

Edward curled his lips in disgust.

"Let's just get out of here, Alice."

He looked around for a door, but couldn't seem to find any.

"Charnsuka?" Alice seemed to have found a book. "Ah, it's commonly used in remedies for bone growth! Four Thieves Vinegar apparently grows back tendons at a rate fourteen times faster then Podina. Of course, it tastes rather vile." She parroted.

Edward rolled his eyes, shifting a large cauldron, hoping to find some sort of door behind it. "Put it down, Alice."

The girl drooped, and reluctantly set the gnarled looking plant and book down. "Oh, but its all so very _curious_."

Edward noticed a ladder that had been hidden behind a slowly decaying alligator strung up by its tail, and proceeded to drag Alice over to it. The girl was reluctant, more interested in moving about the dimly lit room in an attempt to find everything she could.

Slowly, the two crept up it and pushed what seemed to be a tile that lead to the main floor.

The amount of dust on the floor of the shop was appalling, but luckily, no one seemed to be behind the counter, so Edward and Alice were able to crawl out and into one of the many aisles. This one in particular was laden with what seemed to be illegal organs of various animals. Edward could hear what he presumed to be the shopkeeper speaking to one of the customers about Myrtle Leaf, saying how it was quite useful when brewing Amorentia.

He peered out from the corner of the aisle, waiting until the two turned their back before making a sprint for the open door.

He pulled Alice, and moved so inhumanely fast that all of what remained of him and Alice ever being there was the sound of the rattling bell.

Edward was quick to realize that wherever they were was quite different from the Alley they had been to the other day. The streets were winding and small, and seedy looking shops were set up on the dirty ground, guarded by cloaked figures.

"Want a little trinket for that pretty neck?" A gnarled finger was holding out a crystal blue pendant.

Alice looked slightly aghast, and Edward snarled before protectively holding his sister's arm and dragging them off. They passed by more dimly lit shops, and a man muttering to himself against a wall in an alley way.

Finally, they came to what looked to be an open path to the opposite side of a parallel alley, this one looking more of what he remembered. He was about to move towards it when Alice wouldn't budge.

"Look at this," She whispered, a strangled note in her voice.

He stopped to look at the torn poster of an angry, feral looking man.

In bold letters, the headline said, "_WANTED, FENRIR GREYBACK. EXTREMELY DANGEROUS DEATH EATER AND WEREWOLF."_

"Werewolf!" Alice breathed. "Like, like the shapeshifters at La Push!"

Edward scowled. "Let's not talk about them. Come on, let's just get out of here."

As they exited into the main Alley, lit with bright colors and dazzling shops, they made their way into the current of bustling people, and it was as if they had landed in a completely different world. Edward breathed a sigh of relief.

Alice and he spent the majority of their time going from shop to shop, perusing and, in Alice's case, buying more then she should possibly be able to carry.

Edward found himself staring into the only Quidditch store in the Alley, entranced and suddenly very aware of what he should get Harry or Christmas. He entered with Alice, who was chattering on about how one could possibly fly on a broomstick, when he spied the perfect gift. It was a broom cleaning kit, and he distinctly remembered Harry muttering about how he needed one.

Immediately he thought of the glow that would light up Harry's face, the smile curving at his delicate lips and his wide, seaweed colored eyes looking up at him, and he felt his unbeating heart wrench. Without much delay, he grabbed the box and bolted for the register.

He purchased it, as Alice bought a Chudley Cannons cap—she hadn't the slightest idea who they were, but she liked the colors and the logo—and she grabbed the back before he could protest and waltzed onwards.

They must have gone to a dozen shops in the passing hour, and Alice didn't seem tired in the slightest.

"Edward," Alice called over her shoulder. She had somehow managed to move away from him in the crowd, even weighed down by all the items she carried. Above her, was a sign in lyrical script saying, "_Twilfit and Tattings" _"Mind if we stop a bit in here?" She flagged him down, pointing to a mannequin with a bright looking robe. Nearby, a couple witches were gasping about how scandalous it was.

Edward groaned.

"No…I think, I'll uh, just go look around over here." He made an indistinct wave to the opposite direction, free of clothing stores for Alice to wander about.

She nodded and danced off, disappearing into the towering double doors.

He found himself standing in front of a beautiful looking plaza, with a fountain, the water gray sky of London bright as doves fluttered about the sparkling water. He couldn't pinpoint why, exactly, this small courtyard seemed to give him the strongest sense of déjà vu. It looked familiar somehow, even though he'd only been to the Alleyway once.

A vendor with a pink and orange awning stretched above his cart was calling out to the fluctuating crowd of witches and wizards.

"Prophet! Get your Daily Prophet! Three sickles a pop!"

Edward moved over, curious to what this "Prophet" was. Men dressed in familiar looking pinstripe suits were lined up at the stand, purchasing whatever it was.

He was quite surprised to see that, indeed, just like in the regular world, the magical world had a newspaper.

He grabbed one, and felt himself go immediately numb.

Edward reeled in shock, the dull, lifeless gray eyes of newspaper Harry sightless as they stared in front, flashes from other photographers going off blindingly, an old man guiding him out of the chaos. Edward had yet to realize the picture even _moved, _as he was mostly caught up in the glaring words, _"CHOSEN ONE." _The red head's words ringing clear in his head;

"_A lot of people call him our savior."_

What _was _Harry, really?

Below it, in less significance was a secondary headline, questioning the judgment of the old man, named Dumbledore, who followed Harry out of the larger picture. And on the end, was a picture of a blonde aristocratic looking man with a cane, a one Lucious Malfoy, with a sub header paragraph and small, miniscule text which Edward could hardly decipher.

"It's three sickles," The man behind the stand interrupted him, looking down at him with narrowed eyes.

Edward was about to fish out the amount, hastily grabbing his backpocket and hoping that he didn't mistake knuts for sickles again, when a hand shot out with a surprisingly iron grip, and he stopped short.

Harry Potter stood beside him, pale, shaking hand clasped around his wrist, the force of it making the newspaper tremor into blurred lines of ink.

Edward blinked, surprised. "Harry—

"Don't read that." His voice was quiet, almost indecipherable above the Alley chatter.

The bronze-haired vampire paused in his fruitless endeavor to gather enough money to pay for the paper, and instead, placed it back down in the heap—much to the frustration of the stand shopkeeper.

The vampire took a moment to take in Harry's guarded appearance, the pleading of his impossibly bright green eyes, the smooth curve of his lips that turned into the flush of red just beneath his cheeks, which lit them in the cold winter air like diffused lights. The alarm that was wide in the rims of his lashes, and the beseeching curve of his mouth.

"You can't keep it from me." Edward said, softly.

"I—" The word's caught in Harry's throat, and he couldn't seem to lodge them out.

Of _course _he didn't want to tell Edward, what was he supposed to say?

I'm supposed to die. It's in my destiny. I'm fated to face against a madman who is impossibly stronger then me, more powerful, more _immortal_, who commands a small army of seasoned dark wizards and creatures all under his command, who's goal is not only to see me dead but to see the destruction of the wizarding world I love as well.

Harry didn't _want_ him to see the slander the Prophet subjects about him daily. It hadn't bothered him nearly as much with all his other friends, maybe because he knew they were used to it after six years of repeated accusations over his questionable sanity, or maybe because he felt _differently,_ more strongly, over Edward then he did his other friends.

Edward sighed and ran a hand through his hair, as Harry blinked up at him rather apologetically, almost fearfully.

"Why don't we start with something small?"

"Okay." He choked out.

The two moved away from the now harassing shop keeper, who refused to have them loitering around his shop if they weren't going to shell out a couple sickles for his merchandise. They came upon a plaza, where doves had gathered onto the stone working, fluttering about around the circle like blinding white spots of light.

Edward plopped onto a bench, and patted the seat for Harry to sit next to him. The wizard did so reluctantly, and Edward found it almost second nature to loop his arm over the bench, hand brushing against the fabric of Harry's shoulder.

"There's a spell, that I've heard of," He began musingly. "It's called Avada Kedavra. Ever heard of it?"

Harry made a sort of strangled noise, and Edward thought he was about to cry.

He looked away from where he had been staring pointedly away from the shorter boy, to see that in fact, Harry was resisting laughter.

"Uh—yes, I have, actually." And then, as if he was amused. "Most people have. It's not really the kind of thing you ask about."

"Oh." Edward blinked. "Well, what is it?"

"Well, there's these three really dark, really terrible curses called unforgivables. They're called that—because, well, if you use them, its illegal. The Imperius curse controls the mind of a person. The Cruciatus causes unbearable pain. And Avada Kedavra, or what it's usually called, the Killing Curse, well, it's sort of self-explanatory."

Edward nodded in thought.

In the courtyard, a young girl had taken to bounding into the flock of doves, effectively scaring the pack until the took flight around them in a flight of snow white feathers, and for a fleeting moment, Edward wondered what it would be like to grow up magical.

"So tell me," His eyes slid back to Harry's prone form. "How does the Killing Curse… pertain to you?"

Harry turned his head around quickly, an almost imperceptible glance of surprise—and fear?—in his eyes. "How did you—"

"Alice said she had a vision, about your eyes. I always thought there was something strange about their color… she said it was called "Avada Kedavra" green." If possible, Harry looked even more concerned. Edward tilted his head curiously. "So how does that curse come to be involved with you?"

Harry took a moment to decide the best way to answer that question, before deciding he might as well be as frank as possible.

"When I was a baby, the killing curse was shot at me. There's not way to counter it, aside from moving out of the way, or blocking it with an object. But somehow, I lived. You could say that that's why people think I'm so special."

"Is that why you're the chosen one?"

"Sort of." Harry hedged.

"Who shot the killing curse at you?" Edward pressed on.

If possible, Harry lowered himself further into he bench, nearly pressed fully into the crook of Edward's arm—although, the vampire was sure that Harry had yet to notice this fact. He was warm, and resonated heat through the fabric of his clothes.

"A man some people consider to be the strongest wizard in the world." The boy frowned, and as an afterthought, "Although he's not much of a man anymore."

Edward sighed softly.

"I'm sorry I'm prying," He began, for lack of anything else to say, any other way to convey his feelings. "I just… I'm worried about you, you know? It seems like there's so much you're not telling me."

Harry looked at him then, malachite eyes glimmering, wide and bright. "I just didn't want you to know." He said by way of explanation.

"But _why_?"

The wizard shrugged. "Just, didn't." And then, with a brief, faltering look, "Didn't want you to think any different."

"Harry…" Edward breathed, looking stricken. "I'd never think of you differently over something like this."

Harry made a slight turn of his head, in the opposite direction where the rest of the alley curved along down a corner until he couldn't see farther. Edward could say that now…but he didn't know the full story. What bothered Harry was that _he _didn't know the full story either. Every time he met Dumbledore's eyes he felt as if the man was trying to force some sort of wisdom upon him without words, some suspicion of dire importance that Harry _absolutely must know. _

But Harry didn't. He was still wandering in the dark. Trying to put the pieces of Tom Riddle back together so that he could have any semblance of a chance to defeat Voldemort. It felt like the answer was there, just below his mind, waiting and prowling and trying to make itself known but Harry hadn't any idea what it could possibly be—

"Harry?"

"Sorry, sorry. I was just… thinking." He pulled his eyes away from where he had been watching doves fly sightlessly.

Harry's eyes met Edward's—accidentally. The tension that had sprung between them seemed to impact itself again in full force, and Harry was forced to remember the awkwardness that had made itself apparent over the course of a couple weeks now between the two of them. Quickly, his eyes shifted back downwards.

"I wish I could read your mind." The vampire said, watching Harry's face closely. His bottle eyes were focused somewhere else, but there was a flush blooming on his face.

As if the wizard had suddenly sensed the intimacy of the moment, he moved back a bit, almost entirely out of the encirclement of Edward's arm.

"W—Why's that?" His voice was a whisper, barely heard over the chirping of birds around the courtyard. A small herd of children, all dressed in bright colors, had amassed themselves and were currently chasing the birds around behind them. Harry could see the blurred striped stockings and big fluffy scarves from behind Edward, but he couldn't take his eyes away from the Vampire's.

"Because I know you're hiding things from me, and I want to know them."

He broke from his trance and looked away then. "I'm really not all that interesting." He didn't know who he was trying to delude, but it certainly wasn't working.

"That doesn't matter to me!" Edward shook his head. "I could really care less if you were this Dumbledore character or that Malfoy man!" He didn't know either of them, really, but he remembered their names from the newspaper and Harry seemed to find this particularly funny as he cracked a smile.

"Seriously, Harry." Edward grinned at the slight movement of Harry's quirking lips. "You can tell me anything."

He shook his head. "You don't even know me!" Harry insisted.

"But I _want _to."

Harry sputtered, more confused then anything. Most people found him interesting because they were aware of his exciting history with the darkest wizard alive, and his rendezvous with the killing curse. But Edward wasn't aware of either of them—or hadn't been until a few moments ago, So was his interest really… genuine?

"I…" Harry blinked. "I don't understand. Why?"

Edward leaned over, and in one movement Harry could feel the soft brush of his lips against his, eyes widened and surprise his most immediate emotion.

The vampire pulled away, eyes opening, and Harry could see the flecks of gold in them, bright like saffron daisies.

"—Wha—"

"Because I like you, Harry."

The wizard didn't think he'd heard anything more sincere then that.

"As more then a friend."

"Oh, their you two are!" Alice skidded to a halt in front of their bench, ladled with a magnititude of bags with a collection of labels plastered on them from different stores.

Judging by them, she had visited Flourish and Blotts and had bought an arrangement of books, the Bertie Every Flavored Beans Outlet that opened up near Obscurus Books, of which she also had a bag. Also was a Florean Fortescue's bag, and a rather nice looking black and white striped bag roughly the size of her entire body from Twilfit and Tatting's.

Harry had never been more happy to see her.

"Alice!" Harry blinked in surprise, before turning to Edward. "You brought her too?"

And then, accusingly. "How did you two end up here?"

Alice made her way over, scaring more birds then the children were capable of in the process, and harrumphed. "Edward didn't do anything. It was me!" She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Harry…but you know me and fashion, I just couldn't help myself!"

He stood up and she latched onto him in a big hug.

"At any rate, I'm all done here, you two ready to go?"

Edward hadn't moved his eyes from Harry, and at her words did he finally snap back out of his reverie.

Harry studiously avoided making eye contact.

* * *

_sorry. horrid place to end it._

_**NOW FOR YOUR READING ENTERTAINMENT AND MY GREATER OBSESSION: DAN BERGSTEIN TIME.**_

_Emmett, of course, wants a rematch, but first Jasper wants to show Bella that Alice can take care of herself. Was Bella really worried about Alice? I know Alice is a good friend, but I think Bella is more concerned with, you know, Bella. Maybe instead of showing how fast and furious Alice can be, they should be dumping Bella on a plane to Antarctica where it's safe. Or showing Bella how to use a flame thrower. Or giving her a can of pepper spray. Something. Anything. But don't have Alice prancing around, showing off when trouble is afoot._

_When the vampires kill Bella, I'm sure her last words will be, "I'm super glad to die knowing Alice can take care of herself. I love Mike Newton! Gurgle."_

_**but wait! no! not done!**_

_Edward carries Bella through the forest to the vampire/werewolf meeting, which is taking place in the clearing where the Cullen baseball games are played. Because if you're going to have a top secret monster meeting, it's best to do it out in the open where the world, and Google Earth, can see. (Sarcasm hand is raised.) While looking at the clearing, Bella feels a tinge of nostalgia for the old baseball field, and remembers that the first game was interrupted by James, Laurent, and Victoria back in book one._

_Bella, the world's greatest detective, suddenly realizes that Victoria is probably behind the vampire army. She tells Edward this revelation, and at first he doubts there's a connection, because even after a century of life experience and education, he's still as dumb as a salt shaker, and twice as dull._


	8. Monte Carlo

_I know, long ass time. I know, I know. But I had no inspiration :( boo!_

* * *

l-l

_Illuminate your eyes,_

_Monte Carlo, you'll keep in your dreams,_

_Along with horses, princes and kings,_

_l-l_

__x. US Royalty

"Oh, Edward." Alice plopped onto the couch, looking like she was about to poke him. Edward deftly moved out of the way. She frowned. "What's wrong with you? Goodness, I don't think I've ever seen you so grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy." He moped adamantly.

But generally every refutation out of Edward's mouth was a lie, so Alice ignored it. "This doesn't have anything to do with Harry, does it?" Alice teased with a grin.

Edward jolted, like he'd been struck by electricity. "How did you…" He narrowed his eyes. "You _saw _it, didn't you?"

"Your cute little kiss or the depressing aftermath?" She winked. "I saw both."

If he could, he'd be bright red all the way to the roots of his hair. Instead, he just sputtered incoherently. Typical. Alice always had to see the most embarrassing parts of his future, didn't she? If it wasn't bad enough that Harry had avoided him like the plague the moment they flooed back to his house. It'd been almost a full week and Edward hadn't seen a wink of the boy.

The most awful part, of course, was knowing it was his fault.

Harry meant much more to him then Edward would ever feel comfortable admitting. It was bad enough that the boy was so shrouded in mystery it may as well have been a thick fog encompassing him, but for Edward to feel so much for him anyway. For once, in his entire life as a vampire, Edward wished he could hear even a sparkle of the boy's thoughts. This entire thing would have been so much easier had Edward not have bent down on a whim and pressed his lips against the other boy's.

"Cheer up, squidward." Alice smiled. "You look like someone's killed your cat."

"I don't have one." Edward reminded her, though it was a moot point.

In that coy, almost completely deliberate way of hers, she gasped scandalously as if she'd forgotten something quite important. "Oh no!"

Edward side glanced at her warily, but decided to play along. "What's wrong?"

"It's just—I've promised Esme I'd go hunting with her and Rosie all day tomorrow." Alice said quite apologetically. "Might there be an way you could feed Cheshire tomorrow? I hope he hasn't died yet.. .or turned back into a plate."

Edward looked at her flatly. "You're so transparent I can see the wall right behind you."

Alice laughed. "Well, it was worth a shot." She leant over the couch, peering down at him. "You'll go though, right? I promise, it's in your best interest."

Though his sister's mind was, as usual, a jumbled mess of wordless pictures and brief glimpses of movement, a leap of hope grabbed at his heart.

He could only hope…

"I guess." He said aloud though, nonchalantly. "If you want."

_Oh no, it's what _you _want…_

Edward's eyes twitched as he was able to hear _that _particular thought. Alice giggled and danced off, hopefully to bother Jasper and leave him alone to watch his fascinating TV show that now seemed second rate in comparison to his eager heart. Curse Alice for ruining his Criminal Minds time..

.

.

.

Just for insurance, he brought Jasper along as well.

Like everyone else who entered the white washed house, Jasper took a considerable moment to stare wordlessly at the wall full of pictures. Edward only took a brief moment to do the same, having seen them multiple times himself, but was struck at the picture of himself, Alice, and Harry. It was taken during their first trip into Diagon Alley, and he could see the barest leaning of Gringotts Bank over the corner of Alice's head, swaying slightly as they all waved.

"Why is everything… moving?" Jasper asked, exasperated, as this was the second time some sort of bird had gotten caught in his hair. It wrenched itself out, eventually, to continue it's fanning at the ceiling.

Personally, Edward thought Jasper was most intrigued by the clock Harry had on his wall. He'd never noticed it before, but it had an enormous amount of people's names listed on kitchen cutlery. Instead of telling time, though, it had an assortment of locations. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny were all directed towards school. Fred and George were in Diagon Alley, Percy in the Ministry along with Arthur, Molly in the Burrow, Bill in Egypt and Charlie in Romania.

Jasper seemed most fascinated as one of the spoons lurched, and Arthur's utensil moved back to the Burrow.

"And this is all magic, then?" Jasper turned back to him, giving a vague wave to everything that seemed to perpetually catch his attention.

Edward nodded, politely taking one of the argyle knit sweaters that wretched plant was continuously growing, setting it in his lap so he didn't have to look at the awful pattern all the time. "It's always in a bit of disarray." Though if he was truthful with himself, it was one of the reasons he so clearly enjoyed the house. "But it's amazing, isn't it?"

"Definitely." Jasper agreed, walking back into the kitchen, interested in the pots scrubbing themselves. He pulled a brush back, only to reel in shock as it irately wiggled out of his hand, temperamental at being distracted from its work.

There was a loud pop that startled the both of them, and Jasper and Edward both stared in shock as the ugliest creature they had ever seen appeared on the table. It had droopy, elephant looking ears and a large hooked nose. The creature perhaps came up to his shin, with a hunched back and crooked, mangled fingers.

"Kreatcher has come to Master Harry Potter's house to fix and clean," The thing began, looking angry. "Yet he finds disgusting creatures here soiling the floor of Master Potter's house."

"Creatures?" Edward's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "What are _you _then?"

"I is Master Potter's servant." It began dangerously. "Kreatcher has come to clean, but Kreatcher will dispel the trespassers first."

"Dispell?" Jasper echoed ominously, before Kreatcher threw what seemed to be an enormous glass bauble at Edward's head.

He ducked, and leapt out of the way with ease. The thing wasn't to be deterred, though, and Edward moved out of the way just in time as he felt a stinging in the air.

"Jasper!" He called, backed to the opposite side of the corner. Luckily, the malformed, midget looking human had yet to turn to his brother. "Go to that bookshelf and grab the Encyclopedia of Magical—

He jumped out of the way again, before it could attack him with purple flames. "Creatures!" He finished, making a swing for the creature on the table. It leapt out of the way, but not before he managed to grab a hold of his foot.

Edward near threw up as he felt like he was being squeezed through a tube, only to end up on the opposite side of the room with a loud pop, still holding the thing's ankle.

Jasper managed to find the book in record time, splitting the spine open. There must have been millions of creatures in there, though, and Edward wasn't sure if it would actually be any use.

"A Hairy Harpy?" Jasper read aloud. "Could be one of those. They're particularly temperamental."

Kreatcher jumped atop Edward's head, attempting to hit him with a conjured frying pan, but Edward rolled out of the way in time to hear the metal pan crunch into the wood flooring.

"It's not hairy!" He called back.

"A Batty House Cat?"

Kreatcher seemed especially adept with the use of kitchen utensils, as he made to butcher Edward with a transfigured steak knife, it didn't work, as the vampire was much to fast for the short, stubby thing.

"It's not dead!"

"Bumbling Barmy?"

"Cleaning!" Edward yelped, realizing this was going nowhere fast and Kreatcher seemed to have realized that the best way to get at Edward was to predict where he'd move next. "He was talking about cleaning! Look for that!"

Jasper was furiously moving through the pages.

"A House Elf!" His brother cried. "It's a house elf!"

Well, they always say that identifying the problem is always the first step in solving it. Edward ducked again, coming to the conclusion that knowing what the thing was definitely couldn't help him defeat it. "Well?" He called impatiently. "Go on!"

"Hmm—they seem to have a particular adoration for cleaning…" Again, useless facts. "Uh, they serve a master, generally a wizard or a wizarding family… and they only follow the orders of that particular wizard."

"Great…" The younger vampire muttered to himself.

Kreacher yowled as he leapt for Edward, who dodged swiftly. Before the small thing could even hit the wall though, it disappeared with a terribly loud pop before reappearing on the top of the sofa.

"Is there anyway to stop it?"

"Doesn't look like it." Said Jasper, continuing to read the text. "Unless you happen to be the owner. Though you can _disown _a house elf by giving it clothes. Though, I'm assuming you'd have to be the owner to do that."

"Well that just got us nowhere." Edward huffed, more to himself then Jasper. It wasn't really the other vampire's fault they were in this mess anyway—if anything, it was his.

"We might as well just leave for now." Said Edward, eying the house elf cautiously. It hadn't moved, though it was glaring back down its horridly hooked nose. "I don't see anyway of getting around it."

"Well go on then, you filthy, filthy creatures." The thing spat. Edward could have laughed at the irony, had he been in the mood. The house elf looked like it hadn't bathed. Ever.

"Oh, Kreatcher, is that you?"

The fireplace sputtered, and then coughed out a plume of green smoke.

Harry came barreling out, soot covered and choking, waving the dusty particles away from his face as his right hand dispelled most of it with his wand. "I thought I told you to _clean_, not make it worse! What is all this mess—

His bright green eyes opened, seeming to find Edward first.

There was a moment when he didn't say anything, and Edward wondered if they were having some sort of conversation, his eyes and Harry. In a language he quite obviously wasn't fluent in, yet still retained a vague recognition of. There was conversation in them, there were words, but Edward couldn't understand.

Then he turned to Kreatcher.

"What are you doing, attacking my guests?-!" He snapped, furiously.

"Guests?" Kreatcher echoed in dismay. "No, Kreatcher was getting out these filthy creatures—

"They're not creatures, they're my guests." Harry corrected with an eye roll. "Now if you please."

And then, only with a motion of his hand, Kreatcher stopped his attack and transfigured a broom from thin air, beginning to sweep the floor.

"Sorry about him." Harry said, turning towards the two brothers. "He's a bit of a git. But, if you ask me, _all _house elves are a bit barmy. Oh! And you must be Jasper."

The two shook hands. If Harry was bothered by the iciness of Jasper's touch, he didn't show it.

"Pleased to meet you." Jasper blinked, not looking pleased at all. In fact, he looked more confused than anything.

Harry chuckled. "And you as well. Is this your first time in a magical house?"

The vampire nodded. "My first time seeing magic of any sort, actually."

The wizard brightened. "Well then I must insist on a grand tour."

The 'grand tour' in question consisted mostly of Harry waltzing around his enormous house, pointing out strange trinkets of interests and the various moving pictures. In fact, he snapped one of all three of them, levitating the camera in front of them all with some fancy charm work, and wheedling a Polaroid out of the fickle thing. Apparently it was normal for cameras to have uneven, irritated temperaments. But Jasper was delighted at the picture—even though for the majority of the moving clip he did nothing but scowl—and Edward even more so. It was nice to see himself on that sprawling wall of smiling friends, standing with an arm around Harry.

Harry himself also seemed to be enjoying the impromptu tour. In fact, it seemed to be the break he so veraciously needed. It was refreshing to see a pair of eyes that lingered on the wizarding world's treasures with an unbiased, diaphanous perspective. Clean of all the prejudice, all the politics and warped perceptions. Jasper was a quick study, and by the end of the sunroom turned greenhouse he seemed to remember almost all the venomous plants that crawled up the sides of his walls. Harry supposed Jasper would probably be quite the potions student, had he ever the chance to study the subject.

By the time they'd made it all the way back to the front door, the day was mostly over, and Harry, Jasper and Edward all wore lopsided, poorly knit grandfather sweaters, courtesy of his perennial tea plant, which turned into a sweater-knitting plant seasonally.

Jasper took his leave soon after, taking the armful of strange nick knacks he'd acquired with a wave and a hasty farewell, as he was about to miss his family's weekly hunting trip—an event which was imperative for him.

Harry didn't mind; he was just content to finally meet the elusive boyfriend of Alice's that he never seemed to get around the meeting.

But at the same time, that left him standing awkwardly at the door with Edward.

"Your brother," The wizard smiled, leaning against the doorframe, swallowed by a hole-filled gray sweater. And then, turning to face the vampire. "He's nice."

"Jasper's a good kid." Edward agreed, even though clearly Jasper was older than him—by a few centuries, even.

"You're whole family's good." Harry reasoned aloud, thinking of all the Cullen's he'd met so far. They were all a nice sort of people. Err, vampires.

"You should meet them." Edward said aloud, seriously. "All of them." He added.

Harry turned fully, seeming to appraise the vampire with wide, brilliant green eyes. Edward lost himself somewhere in there, drowning in that stunning sea. "Alright." He said, eventually. "When?"

"Tomorrow?" Edward suggested. "You could come over for dinner."

"Okay."

Harry bit his lip, eyes tracing a picture of him and Hermione, cuddled and swathed in Gryffindor gold and red scarves. He'd never noticed Malfoy, looking petulant in the background near the stairs.

Edward's eyes softened. "Harry I—" He paused, swallowed, and then looked away. "I don't want this to be awkward for you." He sighed, quietly. "I never wanted us to be awkward."

"We're not." He insisted, though clearly they were. "I just—… I'm confused. I need time."

Edward guiltily looked back up, wondering if he should apologize for even kissing the boy in the first place. He'd never take it back—never—but it wasn't his place to. Without asking, even. And the last thing he'd ever wanted to do was damage this friendship, but he was an impulsive, reckless creature.

And Harry and his bright bottle green eyes made the temerity come tenfold.

The wizard looked up at him, smiling. "But I'll come to dinner." He accepted.

Edward smiled back, hesitantly. "I promise we won't just stand there and watch you eat."

"You'd do that?" Harry blanched, wrinkling his nose. "Oh, how terrible. What do humans think when they have dinner with you? Do they just assume that you're all not hungry at the same time?"

"We never have dinner with humans." Edward answered, honestly. "You're the first."

Harry grinned. "I'll have to make a good impression then, huh?"

_You already have._

But he didn't say that aloud.

But he thought it, surely, in the face of those big green eyes and that silly, faultless smile.

.

.

.

"Dinner with vampires." Hermione snorted. "Now that's just bad form."

Ron nodded, inhaling his eggs. "Yeah mate. What's the main course? _You_?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Steak, I think." And then, as he judiciously buttered his toast, "But quite honestly I'm not sure what _I _should have. Won't the blood when it's cooking be bad for them? Suppose I tell them I'm vegetarian…"

The brunette by his side scoffed, ribbing him lightly. "You're their guest, Harry!" She chided. "I'm sure all they want is to impress you. After all, you've obviously made _quite _the impression…"

Harry blushed, looking away with a flustered frown. Ron paused in his systematic shoving of food, blinking up at them from across the table. "Huh?"

"Oh, Ronald." Hermione harrumphed. "Never you mind."

"What?" He asked around the eggs in his mouth. "What' going on?"

"Nothing!" Harry protested, wishing he'd never confided in Hermione about the kiss, anyway. Girls always made such big deals over such little, miniscule things. After all, it _was _just a kiss. A soft, quick, chaste kiss. Hell, he'd probably gotten further with Cho, and that wasn't very much either.

Well, a kiss… and a quasi confession of love.

But he tactfully left _that _out when explaining the whole ordeal to his best friend. Last thing he needed was a giggling, _squealing _girl. Best to leave all that out, lest he deal with Hermione getting too gleeful. You'd think she'd made a sport out of prodding his love life into movement—she certainly got a rise from it more than she did when confounding McLaggen during Quidditch tryouts.

Speaking of McLaggen…

"So Hermione," He began, giving a quick glance at Ron. Still listening. "Have you thought of anyone to bring to the slugcup?"

Hermione blinked, before fluffing her hair. "Well," She started imperiously. "I've actually already been asked. I think I'm going to go with C—

"Oh, _Ronniekins!_" Lavender Brown had somehow managed to bodily fling herself halfway across the table, draping herself over Ron with a swooning, feverish look to her face. The redhead in question had finally put down his fork, looking down at his girlfriend.

"I've just had the _most awful _morning." The blonde bemoaned, settling herself into Ron's complacent lap and tucking her head under his chin. "It was _just _dreadful! Parvati refused to let me use the hairdryer, and I had to charm my hair dry. Charm it! Just awful, isn't it? And one of the third years was feeling sick so I couldn't even do my makeup in the mirror—I had to use a pocket mirror!"

The morning descended into a foul mood after that. Hermione was bristling next to him, steam rising out of her ears as she fumed in a heady, tenebrous silence. Ron, had he been tactful enough, could have noticed. Instead, he listened placidly as Lavender retold the last hour of her life with frightening dramatic fervor. Harry was sure the part about the flying whizbees had been added for further theatrics.

By the time Lavender had managed to grope Ron out of his seat—and away from his food—and towards the nearest shadowed alcove, Hermione's expression had shuttered into startling apathy, something Harry wasn't particularly sure was acceptable on his best friend's face.

But there was little he could do, as the brunette brushed past him and disappeared into the ebbing tides of perpetually confused first years, who effectively swarmed around her in loud palaver and blocked his path.

He'd attempted to corner her in charms, but the genius brunette only hedged that nothing was wrong, which, in the backwards lingo of girl-speak, meant _everything was wrong._

The boy-who-lived gave an exasperated look to his oblivious red head friend, who continued to stare dumbly out the window, Lavender latched to his side.

There was only so much he could do, right?

As he flooed back to Forks, and the hour for dinner approached rapidly, Harry found himself wrangling himself into anxious knots.

What he had said to Edward was true—he'd never break off their friendship over something so… so… well certainly not_ trivial_. In fact, he spent more time trying not to think of Edward's quite, veracious confession as he did contemplating it. It was… substantial. He couldn't just avoid it, or brush it off as nothing, so he was doing neither.

He was just pushing it around in his typical procrastination. To think, that dreadful habit he'd accumulated at the Dursley's, all that pushing around his burnt eggs and bacon would actually amount to a serious proclivity that would spread to his more serious endeavors.

Like thinking about one of his best friend's and quasi love confessions.

Best _male _friends.

Harry scratched his head.

Should he refuse just on that principal? Or give it a try? He'd never found men to be particularly attractive, though on that subject, neither did he women. And though there certainly was an alluring aspect to the broad cut of his jaw and the slight, quirking lips, he'd never truly thought of the vampire like that. But, again, had he to anyone? Cho, perhaps, in a subtle sort of way.

Ah.

So confusing.

Not to mention that this was just another event piled on top of what was becoming quite an insurmountable mountain—Malfoy, all the strange happenings, the Halfblood Prince's book, Snape's incessant hatred of him which seemed to reach a breaking point this year, Ron and Hermione's issues, and not even approaching the subject of _Quidditch. _How was Harry even to have time musing on the subject of his sexuality when Mcgonagall had a Transfiguration project due this Friday while Flitwick had an essay due on the same day.

_If this is what growing up is like, _Harry thought, irritably, _I'd rather stay a kid forever. _

.

.

.

"Edward, if you keep pacing you'll wear the carpet!"

Irritated, the brunette vampire ran a hand through his hair, halting his perpetual tracks in his mother's carpet and instead began to nervously tug at the bottom of his shirt. Alice, who had been watching the display with varying degrees of amusement, gave a bark of laughter as their mother seemed all too aware of her son in his deepest pit of anxiety.

"Its just dinner." Alice reminded him lightly, leaning on the back of the coach in the sitting room, a prime front row seat for the Edward meltdown. "And we all _love _Harry—better still, he loves us! What could possibly go wrong?"

"You don't know that for sure." Edward mumbled, looking like he was only half paying attention.

Though invariably this was true. The majority of Edward's thoughts were on Harry; the vivacity of his portentous, bottle green eyes, lionized in his thoughts until he could almost see the lambent of red blooming in the bright emerald. The low tenor of his voice, how even when it was only a canorous whisper Edward's attention could never stray away. His eyes lit up in the marvelous world of magic, that chimerical smile as he stood in the middle of Diagon Alley, like a striking portrait that lingered behind his eyes.

"And he doesn't _know, _Alice." Edward closed his eyes, fingers trailing up to his temple, as if fighting a headache. Didn't know what he meant to the vampire. Harry was the incomprehensible center of his galaxy, the core around which everything else existed as infinitesimal satellites, orbiting around the wizard who quite clearly was oblivious to the circling universe around him.

"That'll come later." Alice patted his hand, encouragingly. "You've got to give it some time, Ed."

"I'm impatient." The vampire sighed, looking resigned.

Alice grinned. "Well, you've got all of eternity to fix _that_."

At this, Edward only smiled exasperatedly. Both he and Alice, as well as their entire family, were well aware that his patience wasn't going to get any better, regardless of how long he'd be around. If anything, it only seemed to be getting shorter.

"I don't even know how I would approach the subject." Said Edward in one rushed breath, running a hand through his untamable hair.

Alice hummed. "Well, I remember his report on vampires…" She giggled at the thought. "It wasn't written very well—but it was accurate. He'd probably understand the whole subject of mates."

"I think the thought of eternity would have him running for the hills." Edward sighed.

If he was human—and even when he'd been human—such a profound, illogical thought certainly would have sent him high-tailing it somewhere. And humans had such an acute sense of the word. After all, how could they grasp the sense of an infinity when their lives would barely cusp a century?

"Don't bring it up all at once." Were Alice's words of advice. "Take it one step at a time—don't start with serious things like 'relationships' and 'eternity'. He's just Harry, and you're just Edward, right?"

Her brother looked up, giving her a dazzling little smile. "Right."

She nodded at that, and walked off to leave him in his gloom.

On the subject of the elusive, green-eyed wizard, Alice had some confusion of her own.

Though she was a capricious character at heart, not all her motives were entirely visceral. Some things—some things were planned in stone. Harry though, seemed impossibly immune to fate, his destiny always twisting away from her, just enough for the brief opening of crimson eyes, the parting of his lips and a brilliant green light, before it faded into indecipherable murmurs.

It wouldn't do to scare Edward, but there was _something _dangerous lingering in his future, a tenebrous inevitability, fixed and imminent.

And what scared _her _is that sometimes she saw _nothing at all._

The doorbell shook her out of her reverie, her mother's beguiling, jovial voice laced with unconcealed excitement as she near skipped to open it.

"Oh, and you must be Harry!" Esme cooed delightedly. "Welcome to our home!"

"Uh, yes thank you, Mrs. Cullen."

"Please, it's just Esme!" Her mother insisted, typically.

She ushered Harry inside, and Alice could hear each and every one of his footsteps, solidifying his vivacity in her mind. Harry was _alive, _alive and breathing every audible breath, heart in his chest thrumming with anticipation, or nervousness perhaps.

Alice waltzed over, just as everyone exchanged rounds of pleasantries. Edward hovered over the small wizard like a looming, sullen guardian, but his golden eyes were lit with warmth and the hand on Harry's shoulder was platonically questionable at best.

And Harry, Harry and his _Avada Kadevra _green eyes, that corporeal death lambent in them like a revenant from the grave, a perceptible calamity clinging to his shoulders, the antithesis to the life vivified in his claret red lips, the efflorescence of vitality which bloomed with each breath.

"Alice."

He turned her way, and she was struck with an immortalized picture of a man with a warped, twisted face, crimson eyes and inhuman features, whispering in the language of snakes.

"Harry," She greeted warmly, to the contorted demon that her perspicacity disillusioned to her.

Hary was smiling at her, Edward's hand on his shoulder, looking like he was fitting right in with her family and she was _so happy _for him, yet so entranced in the incomprehensible sea of his eyes, as they conveyed to her the secret message she'd been longing to here.

_Voldemort. _They said.

_Death._

* * *

**_REVIEW MY LOVELIES! Not only do they convince my sluggish slackerishness to write like a hot prod on a cow, but I'm also STUCK ALL DAY TODAY (starting at 11 tonight) working and I could possibly die in the process without proper reviewing sustenance. SO REVIEWWWWWWWWWW AND MAKE MY DAY BETTER. _**


	9. Under The Sheets

_Sorry this took so long guys... I'm a freshmen now, finally :) college is taking up all my time!_

* * *

l-l

_we're under the sheets,_

_and you're killing me._

_In our house made of paper,_

_your words all over me_

l-l

_x. ellie goulding_

"At any rate, it isn't an event that should be taken lightly," Carlise was explaining sternly, over his steak. It didn't need to be said that the meal was relatively untouched, aside from a few polite bites to his potatoes. "The Vampire Movement of 1701 is one of the most remarkable cultural revolutions I ever had the gracious chance to witness—of course, it should be remembered that the general population of Russia at the time had been vampires. The legitimate population, anyway. Even the great Peter himself had begged the Zraven vampire clan to turn him during the northern war—

"And you were there for that?" Harry blinked, astounded.

"Of course I was! I had been touring the Baltic region around that time—

Edward made an exasperated noise in the back of his throat, so low it was even inaudible for the acute hearing of his family. He'd meant for this dinner with Harry to be… somewhat romantic, though he was quickly realizing now that it was quickly becoming only a fantasy.

Harry's unending fascination with vampire culture had, at first, been somewhat of a relieved blessing, but quickly turned into a vague annoyance as that seemed to be the _only _topic at hand.

What had he thought, though?

This was a _family _dinner, after all. He supposed that if he wanted something remotely romantic, he should have at least reserved a table for two somewhere quiet. Not invite him over to meet his rowdy and quite large family.

At least Harry seemed to be enjoying himself. He'd been hanging off every other word out of Carlisle's mouth, and had even coaxed Jasper into a joke. Him and Rosalie got along horrifically well, his blonde sister practically draped over him—and worse, Emmett didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, Emmett seemed assured that Harry was completely homosexual.

Which then brought his thoughts round full circle.

To _him _and Harry.

Emmett seemed to be under the stout impression that Harry was blatantly gay, and Rosalie seemed to think of him as something of her gay best friend. Of course, the two had been wrong before, and the rest of his family's thoughts were boringly polite. Not even Alice was stirring up trouble—in fact, she was thinking of rabbits. Edward didn't bother with the ludicrousness of it.

He was too engrossed inwardly debating whether or not the idea of asking Harry on an actual date had any merit. He was overjoyed of course, that Harry got along so well with his family—but was quickly realizing that being comfortable with the people close to him and _actually having a romantic relationship _were two entirely different things.

_Well what did you expect, inviting him over to meet your family? Hot sex on the table? Really Edward. _

Curse Alice's inconceivably omniscient abilities.

_And you really shouldn't be depressing over this! Everyone's getting along so well—I think it's wonderful!_

Alice did have a point.

Edward sighed, dropping his mostly unused fork back onto his table with a slight smile, intercepting his father mid-rant on the Czech Republic. "Try not to bore him too much Dad."

Carlisle paused, astounded. "Bore him? Now my dear child, if you had half the fascination with such a veritable subject as your charge here, why perhaps this wouldn't be your tenth time applying to law school." The doctor joked with a smile.

"Tenth time?" Harry balked. "Whatever for? I can't imagine you leaving without a degree on the first!"

"Well there are a _lot _of law schools." Emmett pointed out dryly. "But I'm pretty sure Edward's gone to most of them."

The subject in question only irritably moved his potatoes.

"Truly?" Harry blinked. "How many times have you graduated?"

At this, the vampire practically leapt up. "Would you like to see?"

"Now Edward, that's rude." Esme chided lightly. "At least be polite enough to wait for the boy to finish his dinner!"

"Oh that's quite alright Mrs. Cullen." Harry excused, getting up as well. "It was fantastic, by the way, but I'm mostly finished. I hope I haven't bored you all taking so long."

"Nonsense!" The vampire laughed, looking pleased with his compliments.

Harry hoisted up his plate. "And where should I put this—?"

"Oh don't worry about that dear, I'll just put these all in the sink."

"No need!" Exclaimed the wizard, drawing his wand and in a fluid motion levitating the plates.

They all floated towards the sink in an orderly fashion, beginning to clean themselves and scrape off leftovers—of which there were many—into the garbage. Much to the vampire family's surprise the sink turned itself on, brushes and scrubbers coming to life, soap squirting itself onto sponges. The dishes merrily cleaned themselves with only a flick of the wizard's wand.

Harry turned back to the delighted vampire family, and then to Edward. "Now where were these diplomas?"

"Wicked!" Emmett called. "Would you mind doing that to my room?"

"And something perhaps for the smell?" Rosalie added.

"Come now you two, don't bother our guest!" Esme leapt to her feet, giving Harry a motherly squeeze on the shoulder. "And thank you so much dear."

"Not a problem." Harry replied genuinely.

Edward lead him over towards he staircase as his family conversed and laughed back at the table, fascinated over his display. It was quieter this far away from the rest of the vampires, more subdued. Edward thought the mood had changed somewhat, or perhaps he was just being hopeful. Harry said nothing at all, trailing in front of him, eyes darting about the furnishings of the house. Thankfully, none of his rambunctious family had tagged along—most likely because they were all aware of his rather blatant attempt for some time alone with the wizard.

"It's a very beautiful home." He complimented decorously, reaching out to skim the side of a lavish, ornate vase.

Edward shrugged. "We've had decades to refine it." And then, adding, "And it doesn't hold a candle to yours."

Harry replied with a bark of laughter. "Mine?" He echoed, astounded. "Mine's full of junk and is cluttered with all sorts of mismatched things. It lacks the… symmetry of yours."

"But mine lacks the magic." Retorted the vampire, finally summoning up his courage to place a casual arm around Harry's waist. "Now, if you would allow me to direct you to the degrees…"

Harry let out a breath when he saw them all, lined perfectly on the staircase. Or perhaps the rapid beating of his heart had less to do with the diplomas and more to do with the vampire's hand curled around his waist. It felt strangely intimate, holding him like this, and Edward could feel the heat of him through the material of his shirt—a heady, arousing warmth.

Not for the first time he wished he could read Harry's mind.

But for now, he remained entirely unreadable.

His eyes were entirely on the walls of shining frames, verdant gaze never lingering once on the vampire. Edward wondered if perhaps he could feel this unrelenting tension as well, a palpable humidity which lay thick around them.

If he did, he didn't comment on it at all. "Harvard, twice?" Harry squinted at them. "Huh. And you didn't even change your name."

"Smith was a very common last name at the time." Edward shrugged.

"What is it with the legal system that has you so fascinated?" The wizard pondered aloud. "All your other siblings at least _attempted _other subjects—though Emmett seems to have failed—but you've become a lawyer at least ten times."

Edward blinked, wondering if Harry was seriously interested in something he thought so mundane, or was simply grasping for casual small talk. His face was, much to the vampire's vexation, entirely unreadable.

"It… seemed the most productive." He shrugged. "I always wanted to be a doctor, but…"

He was a vampire. The very idea was somewhat ludicrous.

Harry tilted his head. "Your father's a doctor." He reminded lightly.

"Carlisle's different." Edward protested.

Harry turned in his arm, making no movement to pull it off, to back away. He was frowning, though.

"You don't give yourself enough credit." He said, but Edward almost didn't hear him.

"Harry…" It would be a lot easier to blame it on a love spell. Considering all the various kinds of spells he'd seen Harry use, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to have one. But it couldn't have been that simple. Everything about Harry entranced him, from his unconventional beauty to his quirky, dry humor and his nonchalance at the most backwards of things. Harry was the first and only person to truly make him feel human, but accept that he wasn't human at all. He'd like to blame it on a love spell though, just this once—he'd like to blame it as he inched closer, closing the gap between them.

He felt like he was moving at a lightning pace, or perhaps inching a millennia at a time—it was hard to tell. It felt as if there was not time at all, Harry's eyes closing as he mapped the distance between them, shortening it slowly, or perhaps too quickly, the very concept of time erasing.

He didn't want to rush it, or rather, he _tried very hard _not to rush it, all too conscious of his pressure against Harry's lips, keeping it chaste and slow. Harry stirred in his arms and Edward's fingers found the hem of his shirt, grazing past it and skimming the warm skin he found at the line of his jeans. So frighteningly warm, like a blazing furnace against the chilled pads of his fingers. Harry shivered at the contact, skin rippling delightfully beneath his palms and he almost groaned aloud at such an insignificant reaction, the feel of it almost too much.

His eyes fluttered open. "Edward, I—

"Tell me if I'm rushing it." He interrupted, grazing his lips against the other boy's once more. "Tell me and I'll stop." The, _tell me if you don't want this_ went unsaid but understood.

The wizard nodded, looking a curious mix of terrified and wonton.

He stared deeply into those unnatural bottle green eyes, the moment locked in place like a slow-motion train wreck.

He had the softest, warmest lips Edward had ever felt, and belatedly he could feel himself shaking. His hand shivered against the soft material of Harry's plaid shirt. Not from any cold, but a sinful mix of elation and fear. The boy opened his mouth, just slightly, and Edward couldn't help but plunge in to that warm cavern, deepening the kiss with a filthy scrape of teeth and tongue. Harry, who had been mostly pliant and unmoving until now, brought his hands up slowly, almost nervously, to his neck, giving a slight gasp when he sucked on his bottom lip. He groaned in response, the slight response from the wizard enough to drive him wild. One of his hands drew down to lightly cup his backside, the other shaking with a conscious effort not to hold his hip to hard.

He knew, of course, that Harry wasn't made of glass, but he may as well have been—it would only take a hard grip to shatter bone, to shove him against the wall and hold him there by his slim hips, ravishing him and every tendon and shudder of muscle underneath his fingertips burning with the heady thrum of warm _life _and—

Harry's head hit the back of the wall with a slight thump, his mouth pulling away, run ragged red and wet, gasping air. Edward hadn't even realized he'd moved. The other boy was pinned against the wall, one sneaker dangling off the floor and the other grasping at his hip, two hands clutching his neck struggling to keep balanced.

He met the wizard's eyes for a brief, sparked moment; the fear in his eyes probably palpable. God… if he had hurt him—he hadn't even felt himself move, an instinctual reaction at _finally _having what he wanted in his arms. Harry's eyes contrasted with the rush of heat to his cheeks, mouth gasping and open at hell, he looked _wrecked. _

For a second, he didn't want to let go, the feel of Harry so close and in his arms, one of his hands thumbing his hip bone and the other obscenely lifting him, splayed on his backside gave him a greedy, delirious feel of power and arousal. The animalistic mine, mine, _mine_ was almost overpowering, near taking over him, but coupled with the terror that he'd hurt Harry—

And guilt.

He set him back on the ground as quickly but carefully as possible, unable to look at his eyes. God he had, he had—

Harry's hand, feather-light on his arm was almost too much to bear.

—_he had almost lost control._

"You should go." He swallowed, thickly.

Harry stayed unmoving, still enclosed between the wall and the solid wall of his body. Immediately he moved back to give him space.

"Edward…" He couldn't tell what Harry was thinking from his voice, and wouldn't dare to look at his face to gauge his reaction. Fear, probably. Unadulterated terror.

He had wanted to keep it chaste—keep it slow… he hadn't even _realized _he'd moved at all, completely drunk and lost at the feel of his skin and the _power. _

It was disgusting.

Alice. _Alice._

His sister either had miraculous powers of telepathy, or Jasper must have relayed his apparent distress to her. Or maybe she had seen his blatant romantic flop in one of her visions—even more embarrassing. Regardless, she quickly maneuvered herself in the hallway, Edward steadily putting more and more distance between them while avoiding Harry's gaze.

"There you two are!" She called cheerily, and he near sagged with visible relief and the reprieve.

"Harry, Esme wants to know if you'd like to stay for dessert?"

Edward caught the slight profile of her face as she poked her head down the hall, the slight quirk of concern to her brow.

Harry started, looking like he almost jumped out of his bones. "Oh, uh… perhaps another time? I really should get going… I have an appointment early tomorrow."

"Oh how unfortunate!" Alice cried. "I suppose another time, then. I'll hold you to it!"

The wizard moved away from him, already climbing unsteadily down the stairs. "Of course…"

.

.

.

It almost seemed foolish to think of any other outcome that could have happened.

It wasn't like Harry hadn't thought about it. He _did _accept the offer, after all… and the idea of dinner, of going to his house had stirred up all kinds of scenarios, half-formed and mused upon in the hazy, sleepy hours before dawn.

So no, he hadn't entirely been taken surprise by Edward coming on to him.

But perhaps he was a bit in his reaction.

… _I don't think I've ever been so turned on in my life!_

He sighed, hanging his head.

Perhaps it had been a bad idea to go to the bank on a Saturday… with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. But he had been feeling restless at the thought of a day of doing nothing but light homework, and had bolted at the chance to get out of his house, and away from his thoughts.

But in the Gringotts line, there was little else to do _but _think.

About Edward.

And being suddenly and ruthlessly pinned to a wall.

_And liking it._

_I'm pretty sure that's not normal…_ He thought morosely to himself, head in hand, resting his arms on his knees. But it was rather undeniable. Something about that had unquestionably turned him on, and honestly he was surprised by it. He hadn't known _what _to say when Edward all but kicked him out. What could he have said, when he didn't even know how to express it in words?

_Edward seemed to have gotten the wrong impression, though._

The guy wouldn't even look at him, only hastily backing off and refraining from being any closer than two feet while he stiffly and awkwardly bid farewell to his family. In fact, he had almost looked… ashamed?

Damn, what a mess.

"Why, do you always come to the bank on Saturdays or is this just a terrible coincidence?"

Harry looked up, startled at the voice.

A rather dashing, and halfway familiar fellow with a smear of coiffed dark hair moved in front of him. He had the highest of wizarding couture, of which Harry only knew from discarded witch magazines Ginny left littered around the burrow. He seemed about Harry's age, but certainly didn't go to Hogwarts. In one fine, porcelain hand he held a wizarding newspaper, the other tucking in his pocket watch.

He blinked at the dark red eyes, suddenly recalling a similar memory.

"I could say the same for you." He said coolly, after regaining some composure. "Do _you _always come to the bank on Saturdays, or is it some sort of strange vampire etiquette?"

Harry hadn't been sure if he'd offend or not, but his gamble paid off when a surprised smile broke out on the boy's handsome face.

"You've figured us out." He drawled wryly, seating himself beside Harry in an enviously fluid, graceful motion. "It's part of the curse of being vampire—if we don't, we turn to stone."

Harry grinned, shaking his head. "Really though…"

The vampire shrugged. "Saturdays are normally the most convenient day to go. Unfortunately, I spend the vast majority of my weekend morning attending to the fickle whims of Gringotts Goblins."

"They are a bit temperamental, aren't they?" He mused.

"And you?" Dark crimson eyes turned to him curiously.

"I just…" Harry looked away. The vampire's pale skin glimmered unnaturally in the wan lighting of the bank, reminding him poignantly of another pale-skinned vampire he was rather well acquainted with. "Wanted to get out of the house, I suppose."

"You've picked a fascinating alternative." Was the brunette's dry response. Harry supposed that truly though, he wasn't good company at the moment, and probably deserved the satire. Yet the vampire sat down, anyway.

"Harry, was it?" The vampire tilted his head.

Harry flushed. "Oh, uh, yes that's right. I'm sorry… I know we've introduced, but what was it—?"

"Alec?"

"Alec, then. Right, sorry." The wizard nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "And in retrospect I suppose I could have picked a more… engaging substitute. It hadn't struck me at the time though. Honestly I've been thinking so _much, _it seems I haven't been thinking at all. Does that make any sense?"

"Not really, no." Alec replied flatly. "However, I've nothing better to do but pick apart the doubtlessly unhinged recesses of your mind, so, fire away. "

"Unhinged." Harry echoed with a scoff, rolling his eyes.

"Eccentric then." The vampire leaned back, appraising the wizard with a slight smile, almost like an extending olive branch. "Now, what is it that has you thinking so much you can't think at all?"

"Well… Well I've just…" He flushed scarlet, sputtering a bit before simply spitting the words out in a rush, "I've never been in love before, but I'd like to think I'm somewhere in the in-between now, or perhaps a little closer to complete anarchical confusion than I'd personally like to be… You wouldn't happen to know if this is what love feels like, would you? I'd honestly like to know before I start spouting out things… or worse, giving the wrong impression…"

"You'd have to explain your symptoms." He doctored with amusement.

"I feel like I have a stomach ulcer." Harry replied, flatly. "Or a flobberworm stuck in my stomach, eating away at my entrails. It's an awful feeling and it's all I can think about—and it makes me feel so foolish! I've never cared so much about what someone thinks of me. Or, for that matter, what I think of someone else."

"You don't know how you feel?" Alec mused.

Harry shook his head, rapidly. "He—I mean…" He looked quickly towards the vampire, who only shrugged. "Well… _he,_ um, kissed me, once. I didn't know what to think—I've been told I'm oblivious but never has that fact blindsided me so much before. I hadn't even thought it a possibility he might like me like that, he's a, uh," He chanced another glance at Alec, but so far the other boy was taking it all in with an air of amiable neutrality, "he's a vampire, and I'm not, so…"

At this, he seemed to at least get a reaction from the other boy, a slightly stunned look and the subtle drop of his mouth, crimson eyes widening.

"But yes I've given it some thought but we're good friends, incredibly good friends… perhaps even the best of friends? And I'm so scared we'll lose that over my inability to read my own mind—if only I was a legillimens! Maybe then I could just use legillimency on myself and figure it out!—I don't want to lead him on or anything like that, but I don't even know what I want myself."

Alec took it all in with a growing dark look, Harry watching it take over his face slowly with growing trepidation. Finally, it cleared like a storm break and the vampire shook his head. "I don't think you'll have to worry about leading him on—I think what you should be focusing on right now is yourself. Do you find him attractive?"

Harry flushed. "I'd think so, yes."

"And you obviously get along. Is it because he's a vampire?"

"Oh certainly not." Harry laughed, relieved at such an easy question. "That never bothered me before, and it most assuredly doesn't know."

_If my reaction to him is anything to go by…_

"I'm just cautious… I guess." He decided upon finally. "My relationships up until now have been somewhat bland if not entirely nonexistent. And… and I get the feeling that Edward—uh, that's his name—is more than that. What he wants from me seems real, y'know? Not, not like all the girls at my school who just want to feel pretty or the boys who want to look cool… its deeper than that."

He was met with silence again, heady and falling upon his shoulders and only interspersed with the low drone of a goblin calling, "Next, please" into the morose line.

Finally, Alec scratched his chin. "Edward, eh?"

Harry blinked.

A brief look crossed his face, before disappearing. "Well, you're intuition is certainly spot on." He laughed, before continuing on. "I think everything you said is true. It would be advisable of you to be cautious—and it seems to me like you get what Edward's feeling."

Harry nodded. His hand fell from his neck, moving to play with the fringe of his shirt. "He—he feels protective of me, that I can tell. Like he has to protect me from everything, even from himself. He…" Harry chuckled. "He's got quite the complex."

"I assure you, that's normal for vampires." Alec retorted easily, a twinkle in his eye. "Brooding vampires, that is."

"Oh, he's very broody." Harry agreed. "We're somewhat opposites, actually. I'm not sure how this friendship even came to be… and I definitely wouldn't want to ruin it. I just—I know he's waiting, now. I feel like I should do _something, _come up with some kind of answer—

"Don't rush it." Alec interrupted. "That's my advice. He's made up his mind for some time now, it sounds like. He can wait a little more. Don't feel obligated to give him an answer right away because he's made you aware of his feelings. I'd suggest you sleep on it."

"That's…" Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "That's very sound advice."

Alec stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head with a chuckle. "No, that's very generic advice. It just also happens to work more often than not."

"Regardless," Harry continued on, smiling slightly. "It's good advice. I appreciate it."

"Anytime." The vampire replied, with surprising sincerity.

.

.

.

"You're beating yourself up over this, again." Alice frowned at him, hanging upside down.

Edward had been in his room for the greater part of two days now—without any inclination to move. There didn't seem to be a purpose to life anymore, or rather, less of a purpose than usual. And without Harry, it was as if his world upturned dark, and all that was good and beautiful withered away. Or something poetic like that. He'd gotten rather poetic, sitting here in the morose, merciless silence of his room with only his own brooding for company.

But he didn't want to see any of his family, nor did he want to hunt. In fact, he'd like to wither away with all that was good and beautiful, or maybe just into the carpet he'd been sitting on for almost forty-eight hours.

"I know it, too. I don't even have to ask Jasper. It's disgusting, really."

Edward still didn't reply.

Alice pouted, swinging a bit on Edward's balcony railing. It wasn't really all that comfortable, but Edward looked slightly more amusing upside-down.

"He'll come back, you know." She advised lightly. "And for the record, you were kinda douchey kicking him out like that. What'd he do? Are you _ever _going to tell me what happened? Actually, are you ever going to _talk_? Mute isn't really in, you know."

"Alice." He rasped, really not wanting to call it pleading but it was unbearably close to it.

"Ed_weird_." She parroted, drawling out his name. "Stop feeling depressed over yourself and call him. Better yet, go brood in his house. That way you at least have a slight percentage of working this out."

"I can't." He groaned. Okay, now he was just _whiny_. "He hates me."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic—I know it's practically in your nature, but I assure you your life is not a soap opera—he's probably just confused! You only confessed, or should I say, made it even more obvious than it already was a few days ago! Give him some time to adjust to the idea—he's never had a relationship, you know?"

"He hasn't?" Edward's head shot up, looking, if possible, even more stricken.

Alice blinked. "Oh. Maybe I wasn't supposed to tell you that."

He made a strangled, slightly dying noise, curling in on himself again. Great, now not only had he probably terrified Harry, he'd probably ruined romantic relationships for him for the rest of his life! He was worse than a monster.

"Stop feeling so guilty!" Alice snapped, righting herself quickly and thumping him on the head. "Honestly, pick yourself up and get over there! No one wants to deal with you being such a squidward up here, Edward! Why do you think they sent _me_?"

"That doesn't even make sense." He protested, weakly.

"Don't ignore what I'm saying!" She warned, poking him in the cheek. "This could be really, really great, Edward. Why don't you just go over there and work it out? Be a little patient."

"I _am _patient." He refuted, somewhat childishly. "And I can wait for him to work it out, okay? I just… I think I already ruined it."

"That's impossible." Alice replied, with so much assuredness he almost believed her.

"How would you know?" He asked, sullenly.

She gave him a solid shove for that. "Because he's here, stupid!" She called over her shoulder, unlocking his bedroom door and walking out.

Edward blinked, before breathing deeply. He'd been thinking so much on Harry he hadn't even noticed when the spicy, heady smell of magic almost overwhelming his senses. He could feel it singe the air, tingle against his skin and seem to reach into his core and awaken a part of him he hadn't realized existed.

Well, perhaps it was so overwhelming because Harry was standing right there.

Edward lost his voice at the sight of him, mouth running dry and opening slightly in surprise.

Harry was framed against the doorway, the light from the hall lining him in warm gold. He looked… unsure. Tentative. It was a look that Edward had been attempting to keep off of his normally cheerful face, but seemed to have failed spectacularly at. His glasses reflected light, a bit, making his eyes almost blinding.

"Hey…" His voice sounded like magic too, soft and chimerical, like it was a spell in itself. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Everything Harry did was perfect.

That, or Edward was just ass over kettle in love with him, and couldn't find imperfection anywhere—not when every imperfection was perfect in his eyes.

Also, he couldn't talk, so mostly he just nodded dumbly.

Harry let himself in, shutting the door, as if it would give them any actual privacy. He looked nervous as his eyes darted around the darkened gloom.

"I've never been in your room…" He said softly, almost wonderingly.

Finally, his vocal chords kicked into gear again. "It's nothing special." His voice was hoarse from being unused for so long.

Harry shook his head. "It reminds me of you…" He seemed to go off on a tangent then, looking up into the rafters and the bookshelves for a moment, before shaking his head and returning to Earth. "Sorry. Can I sit down?"

He sputtered a bit, before just nodding again.

"We're okay, right, Edward?" He asked seriously, as he kneeled in front of him, dangerously close.

Edward stared back into the everclear green. "…Are we?" He croaked out.

Harry almost looked exasperated. "Yes, I'd like to think so. Unless you're upset with me or unhappy—

"No!" He cut off, quickly. "No. Never."

"Well…" Harry looked at him, unsure. "I'm not, either. I don't want you to think that. You haven't done anything wrong, alright? I just… I wasn't kidding when I said I needed time. I'm really confused—and I've never done this before—and I don't want you to be my experiment, okay? But I also don't want you to stop being my friend. Okay?"

"Okay." And then, blinking. "Yes. Yes definitely. I just… God I don't want to hurt you. You mean ever—you mean a lot to me. I don't want to ruin what we have. But I just… I just…" He looked away, helplessly. _I want more, I want everything, _Burned at the tip of his tongue.

"I know." Harry interrupted, as if he truly did. His eyes were serious, and the set of his mouth was stern, but the lines of his brow were soft, tender almost. "I don't either. That's why I'm asking you to wait, okay? Just… just for a little bit more. I'll have it figured out by then."

He smiled then, and since Edward was in such a depressingly poetic mood, he thought it only fitting that in an ironic twist of fate all that was good and beautiful in the world returned in that moment. Harry did not wish to spear and hang him in silver and gut him like a fish—or even worse, take off for the hills. He was kneeling right in front of him, and smiling.

He breathed. "Okay, I can do that."

.

.

.

_but who cares about all that; DAN BERGSTEIN IS DOWN HERE:_

_(On Eclipse)_

_If this book were a bowl of Lucky Charms, this chapter would be the oddly-shaped bits of cereal that no one really likes, and that only exist because people would feel too guilty eating an entire bowl of marshmallows. In other words, this chapter is boring, and taste like sugary cardboard._

_Sure, Jacob pops up. But he doesn't ride a motorcycle, turn into a wolf, or summon lightening bolts from the sky. Emmett and his swords are nowhere to be seen. There is no action, of course. No one slaps Edward. No one eats Bella. And by the end of the chapter, we haven't learned much except that Bella is blinded by love, and Jacob is a bit of a racist._

_The chapter starts off with Bella complaining, again. She wants to be turned into a vampire, because the evil Victoria could attack at any time. But the Cullens are keeping an eye on the situation, and tell Bella not to worry. Jasper uses his super powers to calm Bella down, but this only works when Jasper and Bella are in the same room, much like my scented candle (Christmas Cupcake), which I have now named Jasper._

_When Edward and Bella are alone, he reminds her that if she accepts his marriage proposal, he will transform her into a vampire right now. But she refuses the proposal for reasons that are too baffling to think about any longer. Honestly. No, really. Honestly. _


End file.
